


Suddenly Daddy

by Anon1Adult



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Baby Nephilim, Canon Divergent after 6.11 Appointment in Samarra, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Nephilim, Sam Knows, Several Cases in this Fic, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Stubborn Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 52,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5222348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anon1Adult/pseuds/Anon1Adult
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a moment of sheer joy when you get to hold your child for the first time.<br/>Dean had resigned himself that he would never get to experience that. It just wasn't in the cards.<br/>But he made a promise to care for this bundle of joy, and when the mother smiled and thanked him, he didn't know if the fear in his chest was because he just lied to a dying woman or because he was going to actually do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Submission for the 2015Dean/Cas Big Bang 
> 
> Amazing -Seriously Amazing- Artist for this fic is [spacecrazyartist](http://spacecrazyartist.tumblr.com/)  
> Art Masterpost: [Here](http://spacecrazyartist.tumblr.com/post/133360595700/dean-cas-big-bang-art-masterlist-its-that-time-of)  
> Pictures are embedded in the story and I can't express how much I love these pieces. Every time I see them I make a stupid-happy sound because they are just _so wonderful_.  
>   
>  Beta Assistance by [myheartofmusic](http://myheartofmusic.tumblr.com/)  
> Who is an amazing human being and should be lavished in praise at every turn in life and granted green lights everywhere they travel!!  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in season 6 after Death puts up the Wall in Sam's mind.

# 

The signs around the area were unlike anything any hunter had seen. The "suspicious deaths" had hit the double digits within the first week. Electrical storms had caused four fires so far, and the unseasonal high winds had done nothing but fan the flames in the hills, forcing hundreds to evacuate. 

Dean hadn’t wanted to chance the Wall in Sam’s mind so soon, but the situation was becoming too urgent for them to simply ignore. The fact was they needed boots on the ground for this one and the Winchester boys happened to be the closest. That, combined with Bobby wanting Sam out of his sight until the older hunter cooled down about what was almost a successful patricide spell, meant that Bobby practically walked them out the door. 

The brothers set up camp at a motel in the proverbial eye of the storm. The day after they’d arrived, two people had died overnight. 

There were two witnesses for one of the victims, the man's wife and the EMT on call, and no one but the doctor to confirm time of death for the second victim. The first victim's wife was adamant he’d suffered another stroke because he didn’t remember her name, which was apparently what happened when he’d had his first stroke. 

The EMT, meanwhile, swore up and down that the guy had to be on some type of hallucinogen because he kept going on about how "they were all going to die because the Devil was loose". That one caught the brothers’ attention. But while comparing notes they found neither of the witnesses’ stories made much sense together.

Regrouping back at the motel with a fast food lunch, they pinned up what little information they’d been able to gather into the gaudy wallpaper of their motel room. The scratchy line of the police scanner filled the silence of the room as they took turns shooting down each other’s ideas as to what they were dealing with. Dean with his nose buried in John's journal, and Sam rooting through his digital library of the supernatural.

A mid-day thunderstorm brought in sheets of hail and another 911 call. 

A mid-30s female had collapsed in her home and was being admitted in serious condition. Arriving at the hospital in full suit and tie, they were told she had already passed. The doctors hadn’t been able to stabilize her.

Her husband was grieving in the lobby. Sam offered him another Kleenex and crouched in front of him so they were eye level. "Sir, I know this is hard, but we’re going to need to ask you some questions about your wife.” 

Nodding was all the composure the man was able to muster up. 

“Was there anything odd in the moments before your wife had her accident?”

The husband shook his head, “No, no. She was perfectly fine until-until she collapsed.”

“What happened after she collapsed?” Sam asked in a low empathetic tone. 

“She kept asking if our daughter was okay,” he said frantically with a shake of his head. 

Dean frowned at his confusion, "She was possibly in an intense amount of pain, is it really so odd she’d ask after her kid?” 

The husband shook his head again, his eyes wide, “We have two boys, we've never had a daughter.”

As he accepted another tissue from Sam, an elderly woman rushed into the room and with a cry of "my baby girl!" and the mourning husband moved to sweep his mother-in-law into his arms.

Their crying began anew and the brothers excused themselves, determined to get to the bottom of this. 

\- - - 

Returning to the motel, they hovered over the police scanner having the same conversation for what felt like the hundredth time. 

“Sam, what the hell?” Dean asked as he paced in front of their board. 

“I don’t know Dean,” Sam said, growing frustrated at Dean continuing to interrupt him as he tapped away at his laptop trying to string together possible theories. “The signs are almost demonic but-“ 

“No sulfur, no E.M.F.-” Dean cut him off, starting his pacing anew, “and people keep dropping like flies.”

They listened to the scanner and slept in shifts. Within 12 hours, they had another victim. 

Knowing there was nothing they could do for the man they headed to his house, hoping to find something at the source. They arrived in time to watch the ambulance arrive, load the man into the back, along with his wife who loudly insisted she would ride with him. 

Ten minutes later the street was quiet again as the neighbors had all gon e back into their homes. In the early morning light the brothers snuck through the backyard. One picked lock later they were walking into a decent sized kitchen. 

Dean flipped on the E.M.F. and it started a high pitched warble scream. 

“That’s something,” Dean said optimistically waving it at Sam.

“A ghost that’s haunting the entire town?” Sam countered. 

“Piss something off enough...” Dean trailed off with a shrug. 

Sam looked skeptical and pulled out his own E.M.F. 

They silently they split up and searched the house for anything out of the ordinary. 

Five minutes later both E.M.F. detectors were silent. 

Returning to the kitchen, Sam found Dean frowning at his own detector, “What are the chances they both ran out of battery?” 

“About the same as a ghost that can disappear-“ Dean snapped his fingers, “-just like that.” 

“In other words we're back to square one," Sam said with a frown..

\- - -

“Find anything to support your town haunting?” Dean said collapsing into the chair opposite Sam once they were back at the motel. 

Sam sighed and fixed his fruitless-search-glare on Dean. “I can’t find a single violent death in the history of this town. Ever.” Sam tapped at the keyboard, scrolling through his searches again, “The closest I can find to a violent _anything_ is a guy who shot his neighbor in the head with a crossbow.” 

Dean raised an eyebrow, “How the hell does that not count?” 

Sam rested his forearms on the table and fixed Dean with a wry look. “He lived.”.”

“Damn,” Dean muttered taking a long drink of his beer.

Sam sighed and glanced at the map they’d pinned to the wall. Eighteen victims since this started, 8 of which they’d been in town for, and still no discernible pattern. “Even if it was a ghost, all the victims would need to have some type of connection. Something that would drive-“ Sam waved a hand at the board, -“whatever this is, to go after them.” Dean gave a hum of agreement. “What do a 53-year-old woman and a 17-year-old boy have in common?” 

“I don’t know man,” Dean said with a sigh as he got up to once again to stand in front of their pinboard. In a town of just under two thousand people, eighteen deaths was devastating. The youngest, a 17-year-old, hadn’t even graduated high school yet. 

Dean took another drink of his beer and bit at his lower lip in thought. The kid’s whole family lived in this tiny town. Grandparents born and raised. Several aunts and uncles all within five miles of each other. Poor kid had probably never been outside the state. 

Dean had seen the entire country twice over by the time he was seventeen. 

“He never left.” Dean said, pointing his beer at their map. He rounded on Sam’s confused look. “The kid probably never left this town. He’s lived here, _in this town_ , his whole life. They all probably have. The old gal, the kid, and that mom, all of them.” 

Sam’s eyes widened in understanding before giving his computer a betrayed glace. “Ok, so we have a connection. But what’s killing these people because of it?”

Dean sighed and took another pull from his beer. 

That was the million dollar question. 

\- - - 

Two hours later Sam had confirmed each of the victims had lived in the town fifteen years or longer. But it hadn’t brought them any closer to figuring out what was responsible for killing them.

Dean had called Bobby to see if he knew of anything that would kill off a group of people because of where they lived. Cursed land was the only thing he could think of, but that had been Sam’s first hunch, and they’d followed that dead end the first day. 

As Dean hung up with Bobby, Sam was finishing adding resident details next to the victims. “Do you think Cas would have an idea?”

Dean watched Sam preen over his latest additions to their map. 

“Dude probably has lots of ideas,” Dean replied, going for indifferent. If Sam wanted him to call Cas so the guy could come hang out with them for a few hours he wasn’t going to argue. 

Sam gave a helpless gesture at their board, “I mean he can probably list five things it could be off the top of his head. Three of which might be extinct, but at least it would be a direction.”

The guy was in the middle of a war for crying out loud, but Dean knew Sam had a point. They needed help on this one. Dean closed his eyes, “Castiel we have a monster hunt that’s kind of stumped us. Older than dirt experience might be needed on this one.” Dean finished and glanced expectantly around the room.

Sam was giving him an unimpressed bitch face. “Insulting our last resort probably isn’t the best idea Dean.”

The air disturbance caused by angel wings had the meticulously pinned papers fluttering. “Hello Dean,” Castiel said now standing in the middle of the small room. 

Dean shot Sam a smug smirk, to which his brother rolled his eyes, “Hey Cas.” 

As Castiel was these days, it was straight to business, “You require my assistance in identifying a creature?” 

“Yeah, this one isn’t matching anything we’ve got. Figured a fresh set of eyes might help,” Dean explained walking towards their paper-covered wall. 

Castiel only made it one step towards him before he froze and seemed to give a bodily flinch before turning his head down to stare at the floor.

Dean traded a concerned glance with Sam before dropping a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, “Cas? Hey, what is it?” 

The angel shot a hand out to touch Dean’s side -his hand warm on Dean’s ribs through two shirts- while simultaneously grabbing Sam’s forearm. With a rustle of invisible wings they were suddenly standing outside a modest two story house. 

Dean reeled a few steps back, trying to keep his eyes on Castiel while checking if anyone saw them suddenly appear there. 

"What the hell was that?!” Dean demanded.

“It’s close,” Castiel announced, staring at the house.

“What is it?” Sam asked, apparently unfazed by the sudden relocation.

Castiel was silent as he stared at the neutral toned house as if it personally offended him. “I’m not sure.” 

“Not gonna find out standing on the sidewalk,” Dean said moving past them and up the cobblestone walkway. 

Sam hurried after his brother, Castiel following at a more sedate pace. 

Dean rapped on the door fishing his FBI badge from his jacket, Sam following suit as he came to stand beside him. 

The door opened to a frankly hot blonde, her hair high in a ponytail, the suspicious frown on her face doing nothing to diminish her good looks. “Can I help you?” 

Dean turned on the charm. “Sorry to bother you,” he flashed his badge, Sam mimicking his motion, “but we’re looking into the recent rash of accidents, and were wondering if you or anyone in your house has been severely confused or unusually sick?”

She opened the door a little more, her frown more pronounced, “It takes three of you? And why would the FBI care about something like that?”

Dean glanced back at Castiel, and did a double take when he noticed the badge the angel slipped out of his pocket to hold at eye level. “Your assistance now ensures there will not be three more agents,” Castiel answered without hesitation.

Dean schooled his face emotionless, torn between laughing and gasping in shock as the blonde gave a nervous glance into her house, as if contemplating.

Sam jumped in, much to Dean’s delight as it was vastly different than how robo-Sam would have handled this, “It’s still under investigation so we’re not able to discuss the details in length, but symptoms have been rather sudden so we’d like to see if we might be able to question anyone affected and possibly find something they all have in common that would have triggered this.” 

She bought Sam’s lie, hook, line, and sinker, opening the door and ushering them in.

“Sorry to intrude like this," Sam apologized, "we’ll be out of your hair in no time miss-”

“Mrs. Walker. Cindy Walker,” she supplied.

“Like the singer,” Dean smiled at her. 

Cindy gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Yeah, like the singer.”

“Cindy,” Sam said, drawing her attention back to him, “who here is sick?” 

“Amy, my wife, has been really sick since this morning.” Cindy said showing them into the living room, “I’ll go talk with her and see if she’s up for company.” Then she disappeared down a hall.

“So something is here,” Sam said, sliding his hands into his slack pockets. 

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “which means Cas is batting two for two." Dean turned to the angel, "Where did _that_ come from?”

“More importantly, when did you get a badge?” Sam asked.

Castiel regarded them both with a long unblinking look before addressing Sam, “I believe you were on vacation,” then turning to Dean, “there is a closing opportunity here to talk to one of your witnesses, we don’t have time for indecisiveness.” 

Cindy came back into the living room, cutting off Dean's reply, “Amy says she can answer a few questions.”

Castiel nodded to her as he took long strides down the hallway without waiting for her to tell them what room.

Dean flashed Cindy his best apologetic smile as he followed Castiel into a dimly lit room. 

Amy was lying on the bed -propped up with a half dozen pillows- sickly pale with dark circles under her eyes. If the quiet sound of her wheezing breaths didn’t show proof of life, Dean would have easily written her off as already gone. 

Sam crouched next to her bed and softly called her name; her sluggish response wasn’t reassuring considering how close she was to death. 

When Amy’s gaze focused on Sam, her eyes widened in terror and she tried feebly to move away from him, a broken “God no” falling from her pale lips followed by a watery cough that sounded as if it started deep in her chest.

Dean grabbed Sam by the shoulder and pulled him to his feet, giving him a shove towards the hallway with a hissed order of, “Out. We got this.” 

Ignoring Sam's confused look, Dean put himself squarely in Amy’s line of sight. 

In the hallway, Sam’s muffled request for Cindy to join him in the living room had Dean focusing on the dying woman and the terror he could practically feel coming off her. 

Dean waited until Amy got the coughing under control before asking, “Amy, my name is Dean. Do you recognize that man?” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder at the door Sam left through. 

Amy gave a weak nod, “I-I was living this nightmare and he was bleeding. There was so much blood,” she shuddered at the memory, “then he was talking nonsense. Saying how he can get me away from this place, and I’d be safe.” Amy gave a shaky breath as tears started gathering in her eyes, “He-he was screaming so loud, then was talking in some other language and I woke up on this woman’s floor.”

“So you know him from a dream?” Dean asked, giving Castiel a confused glance, trying to gauge how odd the angel found that to be. 

The depth of Castiel’s frown made him look as confused as Dean felt.

Despite how weak she was, Amy firmly insisted, "No. It-it was awful like a horror movie, but it was all real. We were all going to die, but that man was being _tortured_.” She closed her eyes as if in pain before muttering softly, “And that woman kept crying and begging him to stop.” A few tears escaped her closed eyes, as she choked out, “His screams were so loud.” 

Castiel crowded against Dean to place two fingers on Amy’s forehead, a frown of concentration on his face.

Dean held his breath as Castiel did his thing. 

“Something is wrong. She’s not…” Castiel trailed off, closing his eyes, searching.

Turning back to the case at hand, Dean tried to make sense of the rambling of a dying woman. “Amy, can you tell me how you got sick?”

Amy’s dull eyes looked up at Dean, “I was sick when I got here. A woman helped me off the floor, but I don’t even know her!” she said as strongly as she could manage in her weakened state. “There are pictures of me at our wedding but I’ve never met her.”

Castiel moved his hand away from her forehead, “I can’t heal her,” he told Dean in a quiet voice. 

Dean swallowed his disappointment. He had hoped they would be in time to at least save one person. The fact they weren’t getting anything useful from this woman just added to his mounting frustration.

“You have to believe me,” Amy pleaded, her coughing starting up again.

With a sinking relation, Dean recognized the sound of her cough.

“Get her wife.” Dean told Castiel. 

Castiel gave Amy one last long look before leaving to fetch the other woman.

Amy’s voice was quiet and had a thick rasp to it when she spoke again. “The devil was killing us.”

“What?” Dean demanded staring down at her. 

“The man torturing him,” she gestured weakly at the door, gestured to Sam in the living room, “said he was the devil and this was happening because he couldn’t get what he wanted.”

“Did he say what he wanted?” Dean whispered matching her tone, encouraging Amy to keep talking. 

Amy nodded once, “He kept saying he "wanted a vessel that wasn’t broken".” 

Cindy came into the room, moving in front of Dean to take her wife's hand and perch on the chair next to Amy’s bed. She brushed a stray hair out of Amy’s face and dropped a quick kiss to her knuckles as she held them in her own. 

Dean quietly joined Sam and Castiel in the hall. Sam was pocketing his phone, “Ambulance can be here in ten.”

Cindy was a widow within the hour.

\- - -

The new information didn’t clarify anything except make them think Amy might have been psychic and had once seen into a possible alternate future. 

Castiel assured them it wasn’t too far out of the realm of possibilities. 

Dean had determined they needed a pick-me-up-meal before they began their next round of ‘name that monster’. He dropped Sam off at the motel at his request so he could make a few phone calls. 

Castiel had angel mojo-ed himself into shotgun before Sam closed the passenger door. 

They were almost to the restaurant when Castiel started in, “I don’t know how much use I will be because I can’t identify why these people are ill.”

Dean sighed and glanced at Castiel, “Can you at least hazard a guess?” 

Castiel eased back into the passenger seat with a thoughtful pull of his eyebrows. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to. There was no illness within her body. Which seems illogical because my understanding is no human can sustain that high a body temperature and that much fluid in the lungs.”

“So we can rule out the common cold,” Dean summarized as they pulled into the local burger joint.

Castiel’s nose scrunched up in further confusion, “I wasn’t aware we were considering it.”.”

Dean rolled his eyes as his sarcasm went over Castiel’s head, and instead focused on ordering to-go. 

Take-out secured on the floorboard and the Impala traveling the now familiar street back to the motel, Castiel spoke over the low radio, "Sam seems to be doing better than we could have hoped.” 

Dean hummed around his sip of soda which Castiel took as encouragement to continue. “I was certain the memories of his time in the pit would have rendered him a broken husk.”

Dean snorted, “You sure know how to paint a picture, Cas.”

The angel tilted his head slightly before giving a single nod, “I suppose I do understand the fundamentals, yes,” he agreed.

Dean rubbed his forehead before propping an elbow on the windowsill and resting his head against his hand. “I meant about Sam. He’s not a broken husk because the wall is up and it’s doing its job.” 

Castiel shot him a confused frown, “What wall?”

“ _The Wall_ , man,” Dean failed to clarify. He gestured to his own forehead, “The wall Death put up in Sam’s mind so he wouldn’t remember Hell.” 

“You’ve never mentioned any sort of wall,” Castiel said before glowering at Dean and demanding, “When did you interact with Death?”

Dean ignored Castiel’s question about meeting the Pale Rider, instead arguing that he _had_ told Castiel about the wall. “Pretty sure I told you about it.” Castiel’s continued silence made Dean’s gaze volley between Castiel and the road. “I could have sworn I told you about this,” he implored.”

The silence stretched on inside the car as Dean tried to pin down _when_ he’d told Castiel.

“This changes things,” Castiel finally announced. “I wasn’t able to do anything about his soul before, but this wall- if the wall is a part of him, I can assist.”

Dean tried to keep a lid on the hope blossoming in his chest, “You what?” 

“I could feel it.” C astiel clarified, pausing to gather the correct terminology, “I felt something when I touched Sam’s soul after it had been returned to him. In terms you can understand a wall does seem the closest description. I thought it was Sam’s soul protecting itself, his resiliency is remarkable as he showed with the demon blood-“

Dean felt a swell of pride in his brother quickly followed by a surge of jealousy. He shoved the second emotion down. Of course Cas would be enamored with Sam. Between the two of them Sam had far more redeemable qualities- 

"-if it were to crumble.” 

The end of Castiel’s statement stretched between them in the suddenly too quiet Impala.

“What?” 

Castiel gave him a look- that was far too close to Sam’s bitchface if Dean was honest- that told Dean the angel knew exactly when he checked out. “If I understand what Death did correctly,” Castiel enounced slowly, “I should be able to repair the wall if it were to crumble.” 

Dean sat in muted silence staring at the angel until bright blue eyes locked with his. Realizing he was still driving, Dean snapped his attention back to the road. 

Without thinking he opened his mouth, “Cas I could kiss you right now.” 

From the corner of his eye Dean could see a more muted bitch-face was in place. 

Replaying his thoughtless comment back, a rare flush headed the tips of Dean’s ears and his cheeks. 

As Castiel opened his mouth, to undoubtedly say something Dean was not prepared to hear him say, he held up a hand, “Don’t. Stop. Nevermind. Just keep the wall from crumbling and we’ll call it good.”

\- - -

Dinner had been a relative silent affair, the brothers eating their food as Castiel looked over their victim board, occasionally asking random questions. 

After dumping his wrapper in the trash, Dean relocated to the end of his bed for a better seat to watch Sam throw out possibilities from their Dad’s journal only for Castiel to shoot them down.

“Maybe it’s like a second cousin to a rogue Shtriga?” Sam suggested.

“I would be able to sense any kind of witch,” Castiel dismissed. 

Sam closed the lid on his club salad with a Styrofoam pop. “Maybe prolonged exposure is deadly. Like something in the water, or the air?”

Castiel’s confused look had Dean smothering an amused smile behind a sip of his beer.

Dean was frustrated as hell from their lack of clues but Sam and Castiel had vetoed his suggestion to take the night off and clear their heads by hustling a game or two. This alternative wasn't awful. He was enjoying his beer while watching the two brains toss ideas back and forth. 

The lights gave a threatening flicker as the light sound of rain picked up to pounding on the thin glass windows of the motel. Dean reached over and turned up the sound on the police scanner so they could listen for the next emergency call. They’d learned the signs and knew it wouldn’t be long now. 

Sam gave a sigh and turned his nose back to the journal. “New things don’t crop up,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Maybe it’s little green men,” Dean offered. Castiel stared at him for a moment before Dean rolled his eyes and clarified, “Aliens, Cas. Aliens.”

Castiel’s expression turned thoughtful. 

Dean glanced at Sam who was wearing a similarly amused expression. 

Sam rested his forearms over the journal, “He was kidding Cas.”

“Of course.” Castiel nodded, turning back to the wall, “It does seem like a fruitless exercise for visiting life.” He gave a rare low chuckle, “Making humans sick only for them to die does seem rather juvenile of them.”

The brothers stared at the back of the angel’s head in shocked silence. 

Aliens. Confirmation of aliens from the mouth of an Angel of the Lord.

A knock brought them out of alien-related reverie, causing them to tense up. 

Dean set his beer on the floor at the end of the bed and reached for the gun tucked in the back of his jeans. He glanced back at Sam who gave him a ‘go-ahead’ nod. Castiel’s focus was on the door and Dean figured he was as ready as he could get. 

Dean cocked the hammer of his gun and cracked the door open. 

A pale blond woman with short spiked hair was leaning heavily against the door jam, her forehead damp from apparent exertion. She had a green duffle bag cradled in her arm, the strap over her shoulder. 

“Can I help you?” Dean asked opening the door a bit further. 

Green eyes he was unaccustomed to looking down to meet stared back at him. They were dull, but unmistakably his own. 

She seemed to arrive at the conclusion the same time he did because she gave him a small smirk and a shake of her head, “Of fucking course you’re a dude.” Her voice had an unnatural rasp to it. 

# 

“If you’re going to do the tests can you make it fast, I don’t have a lot of time.” She finished the sentence with a familiar deep chest cough.

She was sick. 

Sick like Amy was. 

Sick like everyone who was now dead. 

Dean opened the door wide enough for her to walk through.

Sam stared at her in apparent shock before he started gathering a silver knife, iron, and holy water. 

Castiel watched her with his unreadable, unblinking stare.

“We’ll do the tests, but start with a name.” Dean offered her a hand, which she ignored.

She made it as far as the bed Dean was sitting on before easing herself onto the floor. She leaned back against the bed, and carefully placed the duffle bag over her crossed legs. 

“Deanna. Deanna Winchester.” She noticed the beer Dean had set aside and snagged it for a long drink. 

Dean crossed his arms and leaned against the dresser to watch as she finished off his beer. 

Deanna smacked her lips and set the beer aside as Sam knelt next to her. He held up a silver knife in question and she offered her arm. Sam made a small cut on the inside of her forearm, watching as she only gave a hiss of discomfort.

Deanna gladly took the offered holy water, drinking the entire cup once placed in her hand, as if she hadn’t just finished off Dean’s entire beer.

“You are the righteous man.” Castiel said once she paused to take a breath. 

A small smile pulled at her lips, “On point as always babe.” She gestured to his chest, “I’ve missed the tie.” 

Castiel knelt to press two fingers to her forehead. She closed her eyes, savoring the contact.

“I can’t heal you,” he admitted softly. 

She gave him a tired smile, “Sit with me and we’ll call it good.” 

Castiel took a seat next to her on the floor, his trench coat just brushing her dark plaid shirt. She leaned against his side, laying her head on his shoulder with a content sigh. 

Sam offered her another cup of water, his tone already soft and striving for reassuring. “Do you know what’s happening?” 

Deanna green eyes narrowed at him in irritation, “Stow the emotional crap Sammy, I’m not a civilian.”

Sam sat back on his heel with a mild bitch face. “You’re sick,” he argued, “ _Dying_ sick and we need to know everything you do as fast as we can.”

Deanna sighed and rubbed the silver knife cut on her forearm over her bent knee. “The apocalypse is happening.” At their collective lack of reaction she gave a humorless laugh, “Was expecting more of a collective gasp from the crowd with that one.” 

“Not our first end of the world rodeo.” Dean supplied.

“Our lives were always weird,” she muttered against Castiel’s trench coat. 

“Michael and Lucifer can’t have their prize fight so the damn devil is tearing everything apart. We didn’t- I can’t-” Deanna paused and took a deep breath to collect herself. “Everyone is dead. My brother, my Angel, everyone. These people that are sick, that are dying, it’s what happens when an angel carves at a tainted human soul while on earth.” 

Sam’s horrified “What?” was loud in the quiet room. 

“Lucifer wanted to make sure there was nothing left of Sam so he set up camp in a small town and started killing people. He started in on Sammy about two weeks ago.” She fought back a sob, “Every time that bastard would tear into Sam’s soul it would cause these,” she paused searching for the right word, “rifts. When Sam finally realized what was happening he started pushing people through.” 

Tears filled her eyes and a sob choked her next words.

“He manipulated the raw power of his soul to exchange people through universes.” Castiel summarized.

At her nod, Sam gasped in understanding, “Oh God.”

“Which means what in English?” Dean demanded, “That your Sammy has been killing these people?”

“Yes.” Deanna answered simply. 

“Why? Why sacrifice those people? Lucifer is an angel, he can just come after you,” Dean reasoned, remembering the flash forward trip Zachariah sent him on.

Castiel put his hand over Deanna’s when she drew a breath to explain, and he answered for her. “It’s something that was discovered when the first angels fell. If an angel, however fallen, were to torture a human soul that has been,” he hesitated, glancing at Deanna as she leaned against his shoulder, “darkened, it opens the soul’s potential to do things an angel could never do. No matter how powerful the angel." He paused to let that sink in. "There are several reasons humans are God’s favorites.”

“Sam was testing with the people that made it through,” Deanna added in a quiet voice, “He wanted to get us out of there, away from the damn devil so badly,” she took a shaky breath, “but he had to make sure it was possible.”

“Us? Who came with you?” Sam asked. 

Deanna reached for the duffle bag in her lap, carefully shifting it over her crossed legs. She pulled the sides of the unzipped duffel wider to reveal a light haired, round faced, sleeping baby. 

“Holy shit.” Dean breathed, taking a step closer. 

“Her name is Elizabeth Karen Winchester. Born April 13th, 2010. Named after Mom's sister." Deanna tenderly ran her knuckles down the sleeping baby's round cheek. "Elizabeth here is one of the few Nephilim on earth." She gave a rueful laugh, "Never been the damsel in distress but I ended up falling for the knight anyway.” She broke off with a wet cough that had Castiel shifting to put an arm around her shoulder. 

“I will not orphan my baby.” Deanna said, her face pale and damp with sweat. “Sammy used the last of his soul to get us here. To keep her safe. I know this is a lot to ask but,” she tried for a small smile that came out as more of a grimace, as she looked up at Dean, “help me Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.” 

Dean hadn’t looked away from the sleeping baby since the duffel revealed her. 

Awe had him crouching in front of her. This was the embodiment of everything he’d always wanted but could never hope to keep. 

The promise of a family of his own. 

Dean balled his hand into a fist against his thigh to keep from running a hand across the baby's short blond hair. “We’ll do what we can.”

“No!” Deanna’s dismay was tangible, “This is my baby girl. She _belongs_ with her family. She needs to _stay_ with her family.” A new surge of anger sparked her green eyes as they fixed Dean with a glare, “Don’t agree in that ‘tell the dying vic anything they need to hear’ tone. Promise me you’ll take her. Promise me she’ll grow up a Winchester. That she’ll have her uncle Sammy-” her coughing started again, more liquid sounding than the last. Through it she managed a raspy, “Please.”

Dean noticed Castiel gave her hand a squeeze until her coughing fit calmed down

Her conviction had Dean agreeing, “I promise. Promise I’ll take care of her.” A small part of him was terrified to find he actually meant it. 

“Thank you.” Deanna exhaled; her relief had her sagging against Castiel. 

Deanna picked the sleeping baby up and cradled her close with one arm whilst she interlaced her fingers with Castiel’s and set them on his knee. 

Closing her eyes, she relaxed further against his side. “We did it, babe,” she gave a weak cough, “our baby girl is safe and I’m coming to find you. I’ll find Sammy then, Heaven or Hell, we’ll find you.” 

Deanna exhaled her last breath in a content sigh against Castiel’s trench coat. 

Dean moved to gently take the sleeping baby from Deanna’s now lax grip. Elizabeth gave a breathy little huff at being moved but settled back down as Dean cradled her in his arms. 

She was yet another child the hunting life had made motherless.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sticking with me this far!!

Dean built an immovable baby fortress from his two –and one of Sam’s- motel pillows before deciding Elizabeth wouldn’t possibly roll off the bed, freeing him to dress Deanna in a pyre cloth. 

Sam had suggested Deanna might have gotten a kick out of her pyre being built behind the abandoned drive-in movie theater just outside of town. Agreeing, Castiel zapped Sam there so they could gather firewood. 

Castiel also expressed a desire to investigate the sites where the rifts had occurred, wanting to “ensure they had all closed properly”. And seeing as if something went wrong they would have literally another Lucifer on their hands, the brothers offered no objections.

Dean couldn’t shake the feeling the whole thing felt like burying a family member. They didn’t know Deanna beyond her being a desperate mother who had far more faith in Dean than she should. But the journal he found in the bottom of the duffle she’d brought Elizabeth in looked just like the one he’d been keeping for a few years now and made him think they probably knew her better than they thought.

Castiel said he’d return with Sam once they were finished constructing the pyre so Dean figured he had some time to kill. He needed to make a supply run for Elizabeth but didn’t have a car seat and there was no way he was leaving the kid alone for any amount of time. To help pass the time he set about laying out all the things Deanna brought with and had on her. 

On Sam’s bed Dean organized a lock pick, switchblade, duplicate of his favorite gun, dark brown journal, three diapers, a travel pack of baby wipes, a single bottle, a half empty single-use packet of baby formula tucked inside the bottle, and a teething ring.

The whole collection looked like a weird mix of ‘hunter’ and ‘soccer mom’. 

Dean turned to rifle through the duffle bag one last time and did a double take at the baby silently sitting upright in the middle of the pillow fort. She had a slight sleep wrinkle from the blanket on her cheek and was looking around the room with wide eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment before her lower lip started to tremble and her eyes filled with tears. 

“Oh shit.” Dean muttered moving towards the bed to gather her in his arms.

Elizabeth gave a distressed high pitched cry when he picked her up. Dean felt sympathetic, he had to look just the wrong side of familiar. He shushed her and tried for an unpracticed sway motion, trying to appease her the best he could. 

“You’re fine, you’re fine,” he hushed, “It’s alright Elizabeth, don’t cry.” 

She only squirmed in his hold for a moment before pushing her little hands against his chest to level him with an intense stare. Her big green eyes were filled with unshed tears, but her focus on holding his gaze didn’t leave a doubt in Dean’s mind she was Castiel’s kid. 

“See you’re fine Lizzy. No need to turn on the waterworks,” he cooed.

# 

Elizabeth gave him one last scrutinizing once-over then with a big sigh she suddenly tucked herself against his chest, head butting his chin on her way down. Dean grunted in surprise at the contact but brought his other hand up to pat at her back.

She hadn’t needed a diaper change, but did reach for the bottle Dean waved in front of her. 

In hindsight he should have had the bottle fixed before offering it to her because she kept giving him these little -frankly cute- impatient grunts as he fixed the bottle with one hand. 

Curiosity and boredom, along with being confined to the motel room, found Dean sitting at the kitchenette with a baby breathing steadily against his collarbone as he went through Deanna’s journal. 

The first entry was just after the crossroads deal to bring Sam back. 

Dean remembered wanting to write everything he knew down before he was gone in the hopes it might help Sam one day. Sam had admitted to reading it once, memorizing it, and then keeping it out of sight in the trunk because he felt it was a constant reminder he’d failed his brother. Years later and Dean still hadn’t figured out how to convey he didn’t think Sam failed.

Deanna’s journal matched everything in his. Right down to Sam taking Gordon’s head off with razor wire, and those idiot wannabe ghost hunter kids. 

There was an entry in Sam’s neat handwriting a few days after Deanna went to Hell that matched the entry Sam made in Dean’s. ‘ _Will do anything to get her back._ ’ Apparently her Sam thought demon blood was the way to bring her back too. 

The entry after that was in Deanna’s handwriting, clearly back from Hell as it started with the description of Angels. 

The journal matched Dean’s to the letter; right up until Castiel turned on Zachariah and helped Deanna escape the Beautiful Room and get to Sam. 

Sure the events were the same but the note she put in the margin was something his didn’t have.

‘ _Not a heartless bastard after all._ ’ 

It didn’t seem to mean anything really. Just a little author’s note. But then Dean kept finding them. 

The night they had to trap Raphael matched Dean’s notes about how they couldn’t rely on God for shit. And Raphael was apparently Top Dog in heaven these days. The addition was, ‘ _Flustered virgin… Cute but no thank you._ ’ It was weird to think the female version of himself preferred dudes with experience. 

Elizabeth was snoring softly into his shoulder so Dean returned her to the pillow fort - not trying to figure out which of her facial features belonged to him and which ones belonged to Cas - and went back to searching for her author notes. 

‘ _Are all of Cas’ big brothers assholes?_ ’

‘ _Don’t let Cas touch anything stronger than Advil. Ever. Don’t care if he’s dying. Don’t. He’ll turn into a fucking hippie._ ’ 

‘ _Angel with a shotgun is kinda hot-_ ‘ 

Dean shut the journal and stood; that was enough of that. 

He’d managed to kill two hours reading through Deanna’s journal but didn’t need to keep reading his own thoughts on paper. 

The whole “wanting Castiel thing” was something Dean was taking to the grave with him. No matter how many times he seemed to die. 

Cas meant too much to him to just throw it away with some one-night stand, and long-term relationships had never really been Dean’s thing. 

The knocking code on the motel door signaled Sam’s return and Dean’s salvation from dwelling too long on things better left alone. 

“Cas is keeping an eye on the fire. You make that list?” Was Sam’s greeting as he walked through the door.

Dean shrugged on his jacket, “Nope.” He knew no list could possibly cover everything he knew the kid would need, “But I’ll be back in less than an hour.” 

Sam’s face fell in horror, “You aren’t leaving me here with it are you?”

“Course not Sammy. I’m leaving it here with you.” Dean gave Sam a salute and closed the door behind him. 

\- - - 

The trip was thankfully less eventful than the time Dean went shopping for Baby Shifter supplies. Baby Angel supplies shouldn’t be all that different. 

Taking almost one of everything from the baby aisles at the local supermarket, a car seat, and a diaper bag -that didn’t make him feel like a soccer mom just looking at it- Dean felt pretty confident they’d be prepared for anything the short time they’d have her. 

Dean was back at the motel within 40 minutes. Much to Sam’s visible relief. 

Castiel was sitting cross-legged on the bed, holding Elizabeth under the arms so she could stand on her own and having an intense staring contest. 

“Don’t leave me with her again,” Sam was on his feet and walking towards Dean, gesturing towards Castiel and Elizabeth, “what if she starts crying and I can’t guess what she needs?” 

Dean caught sight of Deanna’s journal that Sam had apparently been reading and shoved down the voice in his head that said ‘Sam’s gonna find _you_ out reading _that_ ’. 

Dean kicked the door closed a little too hard at that thought. He held out a plastic bag for Sam to take, “Yeah, it’s probably for the best so you don’t get too attached.”

Sam ignored the offered bag and huffed a humorless laugh with a shake his head, disapproval radiating off him. “You lied,” Sam said with that judgmental downturn of his mouth he was so fond of flashing Dean, “you lied to a woman on her deathbed about her _baby_.”

“Yeah well,” Dean moved around him to dump his shopping haul onto the tiny counter in the joke of a kitchen, “first time for everything Sammy.” 

Sam ran his fingers through his hair and sighed in frustration. “And where exactly are you planning on dropping the kid off? You just happen to know some hunters that are going to want to play house?” 

“Better them than us,” Dean replied rummaging through the plastic bags for something to do with his hands. “Bobby might,” Dean continued, “he seems to know everyone.” 

Sam’s silence felt like a physical presence. Dean turned around to his brother’s epic bitchface. 

“What now?” Dean sighed. 

“She is a Nephilim,” Castiel addressed without taking his eyes off Elizabeth, “a warped fragment of heaven but still, _of Heaven_. There is a link, however weak, to the Host that any manner of evil would seek to exploit. She should reside with those capable of protecting her.” 

“Then you take her,” Dean countered. 

Castiel glared at the older hunter before reminding him, “Dean. I am still in the middle of a civil war.” 

Sam shook his head in confusion before edging into frantic at Dean’s lack of surprise, “What war?” 

Dean schooled his face into an expressionless mask as panic raced down his spine. It was things like this Dean worried would jog Sam’s memories behind the wall. “Lot happens in a year and a half Sammy.” 

Castiel cocked his head as he regarded Sam before returning his attention to the baby in his arms, “Raphael thinks it best to proceed with the Apocalypse. I am fighting to keep things as they are. It is not your concern Sam; there is nothing you can do to assist.” 

Sam looked uneasy at the new information. Dean recognized the start of the puppy eyes, and cut Sam off before he could mentally complete the line of questioning he was gearing up for, “Did you find out if vampires sparkle in her world Sammy?” 

A look of exasperation crossed Sam’s face at the sudden topic change, but he let it slide easy enough. He dropped back down into the chair with Deanna’s journal and his laptop laid out. “No, but werewolves tear out of their clothes when they go bear size,” he sassed back. 

Dean schooled his face into the perfect look of confusion, complete with raised eyebrow, causing Sam to stammer through, “You just made a- nevermind.” Dean bit back the smug smile as Sam continued, “Everything about her past matches ours down to the last detail.” 

Dean’s smile turned lewd, “Except the part where Cas tin roof rusted Girl-Me.” 

Castiel frowned in confusion at the turn of phrase while Sam watched in amusement as Dean’s smug look turned sour.

“Painted yourself quite the picture there didn’t you?” Sam observed with a smug smile of his own.

“Yeah,” Dean answered awkwardly honest. 

The fact was Dean didn’t want to talk shit about whatever it was that Deanna had with her Cas.

When Deanna pulled Castiel close in her dying breath- it struck something deep in his chest. He wondered if they had been like that all the time in her world. Able to share such obvious love and affection so easily.

Dean gave himself a mental shake. Now was not the time or place, and there was a small human that required his attention. 

“Mom never had a sister,” Dean said as he turned to dig through the shopping bags for diapers. 

Sam leaned forward in his seat to tap at his laptop keyboard, “See, that’s not true.” 

Dean shot him a silent “since when?” over his shoulder.

“Remember when I looked into all the people mom would have known?” Sam waited for Dean to nod, “She had an older sister. Elizabeth. There’s a death record from 1964.” 

Dean did a quick calculation, “Mom would have been what, 10?” 

“Yeah.” Sam nodded.

Dean busied himself with ripping open the box of diapers to avoid thinking about Sammy losing him at age 10. “And the middle name?” 

“Bobby’s wife was a Karen,” Sam said in obvious approval.

Dean nodded his head once, “It’s a good name.” 

Sam gave a hum of agreement. 

“Time for a diaper change,” Dean announced turning towards Elizabeth. She blinked wide green eyes up at him before giving a playful smile and trying to fit the back of her hand in her mouth. 

Dean laid a bathroom towel over the comforter and arranged the diaper and butt paste turning expectantly to Castiel- who had gone back to his staring contest with the baby. 

Dean raised an eyebrow, “Are you going to change her or am I?” 

Castiel’s eyes widened in realization and quickly offered her to Dean. 

Apparently the Angel was anti-diaper change. Good to know. 

Dean gave the clothes a few idle threats before unfastening her diaper and getting ready to swap it out when a dark/discolored spot on her stomach stopped him. 

It was a round rock, the size of his thumbprint. 

Not a rock, a coin. 

“What the hell?” he muttered, picking it up. 

“What?” Sam asked from across the room. 

“Is that-?” Castiel started, his eyes narrowing. 

Elizabeth gave another happy kick and scooted up the towel a few inches. 

Dean dropped the coin to the side for the nerds in the room to inspect, “There was an old coin on her stomach, held there by the diaper.” 

“A what?” Sam asked in confusion.

“It’s a protection charm,” Castiel informed them. He picked it up and gave it a once over, “one I haven’t seen since I was a fledgling.” 

Dean wrestled with another leg kick, half terrified he was going to break her despite being as gentle as he could while getting the onesie over her toes. “How bad were things in their world if they had to use something like that?” 

Castiel placed the coin against her skin before Dean finished buttoning the onesie over her leg. “This needs to stay on her at all times,” he announced. Dean paused to glance at Sam who was wearing a confused expression to match his own. Before either of them could get out a question Castiel continued, “It appears to be a gift from me.” 

Dean’s half-formed objection died on his tongue. “Shouldn’t be hard to make her a bracelet for it.” 

\- - - 

Castiel had excused himself shortly after that, citing he could no longer afford to be away from the war he was supposed to be fighting. 

The brothers decided to wait until morning to pack up and leave. The calls had stopped coming over the police scanner and they hadn’t done anything that would warrant the locals coming after them. 

Dean got a funny look from the night clerk when he’d asked for a baby crib for the night. 10 minutes later he had never been more grateful for an impulse purchase -of a baby blanket none the less- when the only available crib had a stain through the sheets to the mattress. 

‘Disease free my ass’, Dean thought as he spread out the racecar printed baby blanket over the mattress.

Sam had called to update Bobby and got as far as “People stopped dying-” before Bobby cut him off with a bark of, “it’s the middle of the night, if it’s wrapped up details can wait until tomorrow morning” before being hung up on. 

Dean felt a twinge of remorse he couldn’t explain to Sam why Bobby was being so short with him. But it was soon forgotten as Sam settled back to read Deanna’s hunter journal. 

Dean traded the two hours he normally would have spent cleaning guns for playing peek-a-boo with a blue stuffed bear much to Elizabeth’s delight.

It was almost 10:00 pm when she was tired enough for another bottle and started fighting sleep. Dean settled her into the crib without a sound, and Dean flashed Sam a victorious smile. Sam only had a few pages of Deanna’s journal left. 

“She was pregnant with twins.” Sam said, from his perch at the table, his voice thick with disuse for so many hours. 

Dean twisted the top off a beer and sat down in the opposite chair, “How can you lose only one baby? I thought twins were always a double trouble type deal.” 

“Well normally I think it is, but she had a little help,” Sam paused and slid the journal to the empty seat across from him, “You should read this.” 

Dean watched his brother for a moment waiting for the punchline but Sam leaned back into his chair with a heavy sigh, “I’ll go get dinner, extra bacon if you read it.” 

Sam was _bribing_ him. 

Dean gave a sigh and pulled the journal across the table. He didn’t want to read through chick-him’s life with Cas, to catch a glimpse of what he could have if he wasn’t so chicken shit. 

Dean flipped through almost a dozen pages before the neat writing gave way to empty lines. It was a year, year and a half at the most. 

“Extra bacon and chili fries.” Dean finally demanded. 

Sam gave him a weak smile, grabbed his coat and the Impala keys, then was out the door.

The top left of the page had one of her little author’s notes ‘ _27 weeks_ ’

The first line read “Gave Matthew a hunter’s funeral today. We were ambushed outside Portland. 10 demons. The stab wound triggered premature labor. Cas called Gabriel. Only one of the twins made it. Matthew was 27 weeks and 5 days. It’s safe to say Lucifer knows what we’re up to.”

The next journal entry had ‘ _36 weeks_ ’ at the top. “Gabriel is still an ass jockey, but he gave Sam another spell book that’s putting him further out from Lucifer’s grasp. Still don’t like Sam using his psychic whatever but it’s better than the alternative. Quite the pair we make.” ‘ _Think I have the opposite of pregnancy brain. Reading through these Latin books almost as fast as Cas is._ ’

‘ _38 weeks_ ’ “Sam had a vision that Gabriel died. He didn’t show when we summoned him and the pinch of Grace he gave Bobby isn’t as bright as it used to be.” ‘ _I can’t remember if I properly thanked him or not._ ’

‘ _41 weeks_ ’ “Michael is tearing up the Eastern seaboard and Adam’s mug is all over the news. Do they really think warning people about him will do anything? Positive Michael is still pissed about me not being able to be his vessel anymore.” ‘ _I’m going to punch Cas in the nose if he doesn’t stop offering to help me every time I so much as think about standing. Equally terrified and anxious to get this kid out of me._ ’

“Elizabeth Karen Winchester. Born April 13, 2010.” ‘ _She has Cas’ nose.’_

‘ _June 2010_ ’ “The last book Gabriel brought Sam says he needs to up the blood regimen then work all the spells over again. Apparently the most powerful book we have is ‘Magic for Beginners’. Fucking figures.” ‘ _Cas started sleeping. He says it’s normal but wouldn’t tell me what’s normal about it._ ’

‘ _July 2010_ ’ “The blown-to-shit shed at Rufus’ cabin is putting a hole in my ‘ _Sammy has a ‘Magic for Beginners’ book_ ’ theory. Fucking books reads minds or some shit because the second time with more demon go juice, it’s a different book. ‘ _Cas has more of an iron stomach than I do._ ’

‘ _August 2010_ ’ “Florida is a giant hole in the ocean floor. Starting to doubt we did the right thing.” ‘ _Sam found an interesting “Earth 2” concept._ ’

‘ _November 2010_.’ “Lucifer found us, and Cas distracted him so we could get away. Didn’t know Angel wings could get ripped out. I can’t get Elizabeth to stop crying. ~~I just want to do the same.~~ Sam’s grief has turned into determination and he’s done nothing but read. He’s on day three without sleep. I think his reading is paying off because he doesn’t seem affected by the lack of sleep.” 

‘ _December 2010_ ’ We weren’t as well hidden as we thought. Lucifer found us in a small town of just under two thousand people. Anyone that tries to leave, he kills. With all the shit Sam did to himself Lucifer was able to ward him in a room. He’s the only one who can’t leave. ~~I think it’s because he knows I wouldn’t leave my brother.~~ Sam started testing the Earth 2 theory. I almost told him to stop after the second try because the people were coming through dead but Sam insisted he just needed to practice. They’re living a few hours now, but Sammy wants to make sure I’ll make it too. It’s been two weeks and ~~every time Lucifer arrives~~ I don’t know how much more Sam can take. We’re running out of time and I know Lizzy can heal from whatever is killing those people. I don’t want to leave Sam here alone, but I can’t bear the thought of making Lizzy suffer this world when it’s damned to hell. My only resolve is I know Cas would want our baby girl to be safe.”

It was her last entry.

\- - - 

Sam came back to a quiet motel room. 

Dean was standing over the crib, Deanna's journal propped against the side rails as he stared down at the sleeping baby.

Sam set the food on the table and slipped off his jacket, waiting for Dean to start talking.

“Everything about this is so fucked up,” Dean finally muttered. “She had no way of knowing her kid would be better off here. I mean, we put the devil back in the box but raising a kid?” He shook his head, “I don’t have that much faith in myself, and I sure as hell don’t have these nurture instincts.” Dean gestured to the journal. 

Sam dug into the takeout bag for an extra bacon burger and offered it to Dean in exchange for the journal. “You practically raised me, I have faith in you.”

“Stockholm Syndrome.” Dean joked weakly. “And contrary to what you think, you’re not all that smart.” 

Sam could see through Dean’s deflection. He made sure to appear busy –setting down the journal and digging for his own order of take-out- as he asked the question he knew would hit home. 

“Cas has faith in you. You think that’s misplaced?” Sam ignored the way Dean’s head jerked toward him. Sam knew if he looked up at Dean now his brother would toss out a snarky comment in denial and try harder to hide his attraction towards the angel. 

But Sam kept his eyes focused on his laptop, reading the same sentence three times before chancing a glance at Dean.

Dean was once again staring down at the sleeping baby with a confused pull of his eyebrows.

The silence stretched on but Dean never denied it. 

\- - - 

The boys still didn’t have a place to take Elizabeth the next morning.

They hadn’t even had her a full 24 hours and Dean had started to feel responsible for her. The more he thought about it, the more he realized they really were this kid’s last chance. Chick-him from another universe died to keep that baby safe. Another universe’s Team Free Will had a collective dying wish that he raise this kid. 

It said something about their lives that that statement didn’t make him feel like as much like a comic book character as it should have. 

Their slow morning let them get to know their little charge a bit better. 

Their indication Elizabeth woke up was the quiet baby babble coming from inside the crib. 

It took Dean a few minutes to realize she was singing to herself. Because he knew she was awake it didn’t feel right to leave her in the crib. She was like a limp doll content for Dean to just hold her against his shoulder while he set about getting a bottle ready. 

Even after Dean had her cradled in one arm and the bottle in the other she didn’t seem interested in holding it herself, rather just bringing her little hands up to rest around it. 

Sam managed to shower, make a coffee run, and find a case in the local paper before Elizabeth was willing to sit up on her own. 

Grabbing the world’s fastest shower, Dean came out to find Elizabeth transfixed on some dancing cartoon Sam had pulled up on his laptop.

“Five minutes,” Dean started, “and you couldn’t find something that didn’t involve frying her brain?” 

Sam glanced at the screen then at Dean before offering him the baby from his lap; she went willingly and with a happy giggle, “It would help her to learn Spanish if it makes you feel better.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. 

Sam called Bobby again, this time asking if there were other hunters in the area. Dean didn’t want to intentionally bring a baby on a hunt.

Having Sam call Bobby again turned out to be a bad idea for a couple reasons; 

One, -“You boys looking for a pat on the back or a handshake? You’re as close as they get, drive out there and at least ask a few questions before tucking tail.” -Bobby was still sore about robo-Sam almost successfully killing him. 

And two, -“Did something happen to Bobby when I was out?”- Bobby’s unusual shortness with him made Sam’s instincts question _everything_. 

Dean brushed his concern off with a shrug, “He’s just being a princess because you interrupted his beauty sleep last night and probably his midday soap opera, give him a while to cool down.”

And that’s how they ended up strapping an 8-month-old into a car seat in the back of the Impala to look into a possible hunt.

\- - - 

They stopped at little Ma and Pa diner for a late lunch. 

Dean made for the bathroom for a quick diaper change while Sam grabbed them a table. 

Dean had just laid Elizabeth down and started digging through the diaper bag when his phone went off. Scrambling for the rock and roll ringtone he caught the caller ID flash ‘Cas’ and laid it on the counter and hit speakerphone. “Yeah?”

“Where are you?” was Castiel’s greeting.

“Hello to you too Cas,” Dean muttered 

“Dean.” Came his no-nonsense reprimand.

“A restaurant about 350 miles west-“ An unnatural gust of wind had Dean grinding his teeth to fight down his surprised gasp as he found himself suddenly face to face with Castiel inside the locked room. “Have to get you a fucking bell,” Dean growled tapping ‘end call’ on his phone. 

Castiel spared Elizabeth a glance then was suddenly pushing in Dean’s space, warm hands pressing against his side through his jacket. 

“Dude?!” Dean barked, “What the hell?” 

Not satisfied with his personal space violation, Castiel bodily shifted Dean to run his hands along his other side. 

None of their personal space conversations -and there were several over the years- ever indicated they were leading up to _this_. 

“Cas!” Dean’s protest went ignored as Castiel’s searching hands groped Dean’s thigh before the angel moved him again. Dean took a step back which was futile because Castiel followed him, hand brushing across Dean’s crotch before groping his other thigh. The contact sent Dean’s mind reeling and his upstairs brain short circuiting.

As suddenly as it started Dean was just as abruptly his own person again. 

The rebuke Dean was prepared to unleash stopped at the sight of Castiel holding up the Impala keys for his inspection. Dean narrowed his eyes as the keys started to give a faint blue glow as Castiel infused them with his grace. 

“Don’t you dare fucking take off with my keys,” Dean growled. 

Castiel spared him an unimpressed glance before turning to Elizabeth and brushing a soft hand across her hair. He dangled the Impala keys out for her to take, which she immediately saw fit to take and taste. 

“I’ll be back shortly.” Castiel informed Dean, then with another unnatural gust of wind Dean was once again alone with his illegitimate child. 

Dean closed his eyes against a sudden headache forming behind his eyes. “Frickin' angels, rugrat.”

Joining Sam at the table, Dean tossed the diaper bag into the booth while passing Elizabeth into Sam’s outstretched arms. As long as she was fed, changed, in a good mood- and Dean nearby - Sam didn’t seem to mind playing the role of “Uncle”.

Dean hummed in acknowledgment around his coffee when Sam told him there was a bacon burger on its way with his name on it.

Sam turned his attention to Elizabeth, who was standing with his assistance, as she alternated between chewing on the keys and smacking Sam in the face as she reached for his hair.

As Sam lightly shook the car keys in her grasp, not unlike a puppy playing tug of war. “She really does have your eyes,” he commented noticing the familiar green in the daylight. “She could totally pass as your kid. You know, if you weren’t already the mom.” 

Dean shot his brother an unimpressed look, “At the very least, it’s going to make paperwork for her easier to pitch.” 

“One forged birth certificate coming up,” Sam told Elizabeth as he dodged another swing of keys. 

Between one moment and the next a napkin fluttered across the table accompanied by Castiel suddenly standing at the end of the table. Dean choked on his coffee and Sam’s knee hit the underside of the table when he flinched. Elizabeth gave a happy coo and did an uncoordinated dance with Sam’s unwilling assistance. 

Castiel took in the brothers’ matching frowns before announcing, “I have another charm for her.” 

“Sit down,” Dean growled, grabbing at Castiel’s sleeve, “someone is bound to notice you didn’t walk in here.” 

Castiel allowed himself to be pulled into the bench seat alongside Dean while Elizabeth continued to wave the keys and mock-riverdance in Sam’s lap. 

Sam held Elizabeth over the table for Castiel to take, but the waitress returned with their lunch before Castiel could accept the squirming baby. The enchanted Impala keys hitting the table went unnoticed in Elizabeth’s excitement. 

Sam gave the waitress a sheepish smile as he maneuvered the baby out of her way so she could set his salad down.

Susan -her nametag read- gave Castiel a smile, “Sugar, I didn’t see you come in,” her Midwest was accent thick, “What’ll you have?” 

Castiel blinked up at her in confusion before glancing down at the table taking in what each brother had ordered. With Dean’s coffee sitting in front of him he nodded towards it, “A cup will suffice.”

Susan caught the attention of the server who was returning from a refill of her own table; they handed off the coffee pot with practiced ease and she filled the empty cup sitting in front of Castiel.

Elizabeth let out an impatient grunt at being denied Castiel’s attention which had Susan giving Elizabeth a soft smile, “My, what a happy baby. And so cute too.” She brushed a hand over Elizabeth’s cheek earning happy baby babble and more leg kicks. 

Castiel dipped his head in agreement, “She takes after her mother.” 

Dean snorted into his coffee and Sam barked a laugh. 

Startled Susan looked at Dean and a confused frown fell over her face before looking back at Elizabeth.

“Family trait,” Sam rushed to clarify before she could voice the question. 

Dean could feel his ears burning and kept his head down, busying himself with mopping coffee off his wrist until Susan was called away to another table. 

“I fail to see what was so funny,” Castiel confided as Dean slapped down his pile of damp napkins. 

“Your timing for one,” Sam informed him with a smile. He held Elizabeth out for Castiel to take. 

Castiel’s eyes narrowed in confusion making Dean affectionately roll his eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”

Unsure of the dismissal, Castiel took Elizabeth into his arms, much to her delight. They stared at each other for a long moment before Elizabeth reached up and touched Castiel’s cheek with a curious hand. In response, Castiel produced a flat stone midair and offered it to her. 

With an uncoordinated hand, she took the engraved stone and waved it around as she had for the Impala keys. 

The brothers ate in silence, watching Castiel silently persuade her to not put the charm in her mouth. 

The fifth attempt had Castiel offering her a napkin in exchange for the charm before quickly adding it to the bracelet Sam had braided from leather strips on the drive. 

Dean eyed the second charm on the bracelet, “Cas, I think she’s a little young to want to express herself just yet?” 

Castiel allowed Elizabeth to tear apart the napkin, littering his lap and the table top with paper pieces. “The other charm was weakening. The second will cover what the first failed to do.” 

The brothers shared a look of surprise. “The first one was failing?” Sam asked, freeing Dean to take another bite of his burger.

“It is the nature of the charm to weaken the further it gets from the anchor point. Assuming the anchor point is indeed in another universe, the second charm became necessary,” Castiel explained. 

Dean speared a piece of steamed carrot from Sam’s plate (they were warm and covered in butter, sue him) as the two nerds dissolved into talking about the pros and cons of a charm with an anchor point. 

Elizabeth had thoroughly destroyed the napkin and gave a mock shriek gaining Dean’s attention once he’d finished his burger. Dean eyed her as she threw herself at him, only managing to prop herself over Castiel’s immovable arm that kept her in his lap. Her big green eyes watched him while she reached out a hand. She grew impatient with him not entertaining her and grunted again. 

Dean couldn’t stop the amused smile as he took her from Castiel. Sam was picking at his lunch, but leaning forward with a concentrated frown as Castiel corrected something Sam had learned from his countless hours of research. It wasn’t news to Dean older than dirt books could be wrong. 

Elizabeth face planted into Dean’s neck, slobbering across his skin. “Sam fixed you a bottle like two hours ago.,” Dean half-heartedly protested, digging out a bottle from the diaper bag. 

The memory of Sam slithering over the bench seat to help stabilize the bottle made Dean bite back a smile. His Sasquatch ass had left a foot dangling over the front seat claiming there wasn’t enough room in the back seat with the car seat back there.

Dean made short work of dropping a packet of formula into a half full baby bottle of water and giving the mix a shake with one hand. He pulled Elizabeth away from his neck and she gave a happy uncoordinated dance at the sight of the bottle. Dean made sure he was supporting her head as she went boneless in the crook of his arm, bottle nipple in her mouth. 

Her big green eyes looked up at him as she suckled. Dean traced her tiny features with his eyes. Her delicate nose, across her round cheeks, up to the faint line of her eyebrows to her dark blond baby down hairs. Her tiny little fingers grasping his as he held the bottle in position for her. 

Looking at her, he could see traces of himself in her little features but he could also clearly see Castiel.

“Didn’t she just eat?” Sam asked across the table. 

Dean blinked up to find Sam and Castiel staring at him. Apparently they’d been staring a while. He fought the urge to shift under their combined scrutiny. “She was slobbering all over me. It’s one of the signs.” 

He had woke early and tapped at Sam’s laptop quickly looking up various ‘first-time mother tips’. Indications of hunger were what he had focused on; knowing if nothing else he would learn to recognize when she needed food. 

“Right,” Sam humored, not believing his bravado for a moment. “I’ll get the check, it looks like she might sleep for next leg of this trip.” 

Dean looked down and sleepy, half-lidded eyes blinked back at him. With his focus back on her she took it as renewed initiative to keep eating, which only made her eyelids fall further closed until she was intermittently suckling at the bottle and more than likely sleeping. There were little pools of milk at the corners of her mouth, but the bottle was practically empty. 

It took some hunting and she was long finished with the bottle by the time Dean found a pacifier. He shifted her over his shoulder and barely got in two pats before she gave a healthy burp and settled back down into sleep. Satisfied she would stay asleep without issue, Dean gave her the pacifier. 

Remembering Castiel was still seated next to him, Dean snuck a glance only to find Castiel’s full attention on the infant asleep in his arms. 

“We- ah, we should get going Cas,” Dean urged. 

Castiel’s gaze shifted without blinking and Dean found himself again fighting to not squirm under the intensity of Castiel’s gaze. 

It was….different than Castiel’s normal unblinking stare. It was almost like Castiel was looking _into_ him instead of _at_ him like Dean had become accustomed to. 

“Of course Dean.” Castiel nodded and slid gracefully out of the booth to his feet.

Dean noticed the Impala keys lying on the table and pocketed them before following.

Check paid, baby buckled in and asleep, Castiel off to do whatever it was he did, the brothers continued south.

\- - - 

Susan had been on her feet since they opened at 6:00 for the morning 70+ senior coffee rush. Arthritis, the sign of her own age, had been flaring up as the days started getting cooler.

Her hope for relief on the second shift had called in sick with a family emergency. The third time in two months. 

Susan wasn’t a judgmental woman by nature but the long sleeves their teenage hire had recently taken to wearing made her suspected something was going on at home. Susan had gathered up a healthy meal of leftovers and was planning to stop by on her way home and offer the tastes-like-home food. 

The back door rattled open as she emerged into the small alley behind the diner as she hauled the trash into the receptacle. 

Susan turned to come face-to-face with an impeccably dressed man. She let out a gasp of shock and placed a hand over her racing heart. “Scared the life out of me,” she scolded him. 

“Only if you do not provide answers to our questions.” A second male’s response came from further down the alley. 

A man and woman appeared from the darkness, both dressed in professional cut suits similar to the man in front of her. 

“What do you mean by that?” Susan demanded.

The first man’s unblinking gaze was drawn to the hand she had placed over her frantic heart, “There was contact.”

“Identify what you can of the source.” The second man told him.

The man grabbed her arm and twisted harshly, snapping the bone in several places as he maneuvered it to get a better look.

Screaming at the sudden burst of pain, Susan cried out, “What are you doing?” as she pressed herself back against the receptacle trying to escape the terrifyingly firm grip. 

Ignoring her cries the man held up his hand; it glowed with an unearthly blue light before he touched her captured hand. 

The man holding her hand sighed heavily. “ _ **It’s too faint.**_ “ Susan was too far lost in pain to try and determine the language he was growling. “ _ **I can’t detect a discernible grace.**_ “

The woman spoke for the first time, “ _ **What hope do we have for following the trail?**_ “

“ _ **Minimal.**_ “ The man not holding her arm responded. “ _ **The travel means of these humans don’t leave a strong enough signal either direction. Keep alert and report back if anything is discovered.**_ “ 

Susan must have blacked out from the pain because the next moment she was in the alley alone with the man who broke her arm and didn’t remember watching the other two leave.

He released her arm and she crumbled to her knees with a cry, cradling her injured arm close to her chest.

As he crouched in front of her, she gasped and tried to move away, his unblinking eyes watching her. “Go in peace,” he muttered and lifted two fingers to her forehead, softly pressing warm fingers there.

The terrible pain from her broken arm was suddenly gone, then just as suddenly she was alone in the alley. 

Shaking on the cold ground Susan had the fleeting thought it was just a horrible vivid daydream. 

Gingerly, she brushed the tear tracks from her cheeks and for the first time in fifteen years her arthritic joints didn’t protest the movement.


	3. Chapter 3

After an uneventful dinner stop, they got into town just before dark.

Dean only noticed something was off when Elizabeth didn’t start making the sounds he’d begun to associate with her being hungry around the time he assumed she would. Dean chalked it up to still not knowing her very well and berated himself for trying to figure out what each of her noises meant; they wouldn’t have her long enough for it to even matter in a few days anyway. 

It wasn’t until the bottle was fixed and offered to her did Elizabeth seem to notice she was in fact very hungry. Dean had to stop and burp her twice because in her excitement she was inhaling about as much air as she was the liquid. 

The second thing Dean noticed was since they’d pulled up to the motel she hadn’t stopped crying. It wasn’t crying in the way she wanted to let them know something was wrong, it was crying more in little upset huffs and babbling baby talk. The not-crying continued until well past midnight after which Sam called it a night and passed out in his bed. Dean had no idea how Sam stayed asleep because every time he tried to put her down in the motel provided crib she’d let out a cry loud enough to wake the dead. 

Unusually tired from driving all day, Dean grabbed the extra pillow from the closet and set up pillow-bumpers on either side of him because the only place she seemed the most content was tucked against his chest. 

With the TV on mute, Elizabeth’s fussy huffs kept herself, and Dean, awake until 3:00 am. When she decided she’d finally had enough she let out a yawn big enough that threatened to make _Dean’s jaw_ pop then promptly passed out. 

Dean waited 10 minutes, counting her peaceful breaths, listening to her little nose whistle, and willing her to remain asleep. 15 minutes later he made sure her race-car blanket was between her and the crib mattress before falling face down on his own bed.

\- - - 

Sam’s internal clock woke him at 6:00 am. One glance at Dean, face down and drooling in the bed next to his had him suppressing a laugh that fatherhood was a good look for Dean. 

In typical not so friendly little brother manner, Sam delivered a wake-up-and-haul-ass smack to Dean’s thigh before grabbing his suit and headed to shower. He looked forward to the coffee Dean was going to bring back because the only coffee shop they’d seen pulling into town last night had been a Starbucks. A rare splurge for them, but according to Dean “coffee was coffee”.

Dean was still sleeping when Sam got out of the shower. His head was facing the other direction, but otherwise he hadn’t moved. 

Sam tugged at a pant leg of the jeans Dean had apparently slept in. “Hey, up and at ‘em sunshine. We’re on a case.”

“Not going,” Dean muttered into his pillow. 

Sam finished tying his shoe and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees to peer at Dean’s face, “One day with a kid and you’re turning into an old man,” he taunted.

“Only ‘cause now I have two kids to look after when before it was just you,” Dean slurred with his eyes closed.

“Says the guy who slept in yesterday’s clothes, Jerk.” Sam sassed back. 

“Says the guy who’s gonna sleep for a few more hours ‘cause I was up til 3:00 am, Bitch.” Dean snapped. 

Sam rifled through his backpack looking for his Moleskine notebook. “If one of us is always going to babysit, every job we do is going to take us twice as long.”

“Better learn how to change a diaper then huh?” came Dean’s tired response.

Sam rolled his eyes but when he turned around Dean had rolled onto his side, thrown an arm over his eyes and was snoring softly. Sam pocketed the Impala keys and dismissed the fleeting thought that Dean wasn’t coherent enough to remember this conversation.

\- - -

Sam’s role today was ‘insurance claims validation’ looking into the death that couldn’t have happened. The family scrambled to provide information when they might receive nothing from insurance due to fraud. No one ever questioned how fraud applied to an accidental death, but Sam was grateful for it.

Mrs. Studebaker had died while tending to her garden. The coroner’s best guess was she stumbled on an underground wasp hive. But getting stung by three different types of wasps was as weird as death-via-wasp sting gets. 

His next stop was to talk with the widower. 

Sam found an emergency crew outside the house. Mr. Studebaker had died in the night. It had the paramedics scratching their heads because none of them had ever seen anything like it. The fire department was arguing over the validity of three different faulty wires starting an electrical fire in three separate rooms of the house at the same time. Mr. Studebaker had died from smoke inhalation in his sleep before the fires seemed to extinguish themselves leaving the walls with smoke damage.

Sam talked his way into the house. Seeing as the body had been removed they had no problem letting insurance come in and take a look. 

It was almost embarrassing how quickly he found the hex bag under the end table. 

\- - -

Dean came awake slowly; his brain felt like cotton between his ears. The red lines of the alarm clock declared 9:00 am, telling him he’d been asleep for 6 hours.

Sitting up Dean popped his jaw with the yawn that slipped out. Sam never let him sleep past 8:00 unless the gigantor was still passed out himself. 

Sam’s bed was empty and the shower wasn’t running. There was no shoe in the middle of the floor, their usual means of silent communication to tell the other they’d run out for coffee, he was just gone.

Checking that Elizabeth was still asleep in the crib, Dean pulled out his phone and dialed his brother.

“Where are you?” Dean said in lieu of a greeting.

“Good morning to you too,” Sam answered. 

Dean frowned at the sharp bark of an emergency vehicle sound over the line. “Are you on the case?” 

“We talked about this before I left.” He could hear Sam’s frown through the phone, “You’re on babysitting detail and I’m checking out the body. Which has turned into checking out the house because there was another death last night.” 

The last thing Dean remembered was Elizabeth wouldn’t go to sleep and the faint memory of Sam smacking him awake but it kind of blurred together with the other numerous occasions he’d done it over the years.

There was a muffled conversation on Sam’s end, before he sighed, “Look, I’m going to be here for a while yet. Go get some breakfast or something.” 

Dean angrily gestured at the diaper bag sitting in the corner, “Why am I kid sitting again?” 

“Because you volunteered.” Sam snapped, “Now go get some breakfast Mrs. Doubtfire, I’ll be back after a while.” 

The line went dead on Dean’s protested “Bitch”.

\- - -

It was a quarter to 10:00 am when Dean got Elizabeth up, fed, and changed. The diner he spotted on the drive in was four blocks away, so with a diaper and a travel pack of wipes in his jacket pocket, they set out. 

The coffee tasted like something scraped from the bottom of the unwashed pot, but the hash browns were good and the bacon was the right side of crispy. Overall it wasn’t the worst place he’d ever stopped at.

Dean offered Elizabeth her second napkin of the meal when there was nothing left of the first one to keep tearing apart. Thin paper pieces littered her lap and the floor around the high chair. He’d been given more than one amused smile by passing diner patrons. 

It didn’t occur to him Elizabeth would make an excellent wingman until a classy looking woman came up to their table and started gushing “she is so adorable!” 

Dean swept an appreciative eye over the woman’s bent form. Miles of legs that stopped at an almost indecently short business skirt, a shirt that offered a little too much in the way of a view when she leaned over, and thick blond curls falling over her shoulder as she cooed at Elizabeth. He was more than a little willing to give this pick-up-chicks-via-kids thing a go.

“She is absolutely precious!" The woman cooed.

Dean gave her a flirtatious smile, sparing Elizabeth a glance because her cute baby babble that had been making everyone smile had stopped. “The only way I know for sure she’s mine.” 

Elizabeth was watching the woman in a way reminded Dean of the look right before Castiel’s confused frown would turn into a full squint, furrowed brows and all. 

“And she looks just like her Daddy.” The woman said returning his flirtatious smile. 

“She really does.” Dean agreed automatically, curious as to how this woman was holding Elizabeth’s attention so effortlessly while Dean had to be holding a bottle to receive the same level of intensity. 

“I could just eat you up,” the woman cooed, brushing her hand against the back of Elizabeth’s forearm. 

At the contact Elizabeth let out a loud scream and leaned for Dean so fast and so hard she scooted the highchair across the floor a few inches. Fat tears gathered in her eyes and she let out another distressed cry when Dean didn’t immediately pick her up. 

The woman also seemed startled at the outburst before dissolving into soothing coos of “Aw baby”.

"Ah, sorry about that,” Dean said as he lifted Elizabeth out of her chair and into his arms, “She’s normally really friendly," he lied smoothly as he honestly had no idea.

Elizabeth immediately tucked herself against Dean’s chest, head-butting her forehead against Dean’s chin again. Dean bit back the curse as she hit the sore spot where she’d done it the day before and rubbed a soothing hand across her back. She tucked her feet up and huffed cries against his shirt, his collar becoming a baby snot rag in seconds. 

Dean shot an apologetic smile at the woman and gave her the out she was looking for, “Sorry, I think she just needs a nap.”

The woman gave him a smile that showed just how pretty she was, then she was walking away. Watching her leave made Dean decide they were going to need some practice with this wingman thing. 

Another few more minutes of Elizabeth woofing into his shoulder she abruptly pushed against his chest and sat up, fixed those green eyes on him. 

"All better Lizzy?” He asked.

She gave a deep sigh and head-butted his jaw again as she resettled against his chest. 

Dean grunted at the contact but patted her back a few more times before picking at the rest of his hash browns. 

\- - -

They mock window-shopped as they made their way back to the motel. Being 8 months old anything shiny caught her eye and Dean was becoming familiar with the whole body lunges she’d do when she spotted something she wanted to stare at. Her baby babble encouraged Dean to talk her through what they were looking at.

She went quiet once they got to the parking lot. Dean assumed she'd excited herself into nap time, but she was wide-eyed, and oddly still, as he talked her through a diaper change. 

Dean cleared his throat and coughed as he laid a blanket down for her to play on. With another cough, he snagged Sam’s laptop and sat on the floor next to her, hoping to poke through a few ‘baby development’ articles with one hand while he exhausted her into her midday nap. He offered her the stuffed bear to wrestle, but she seemed more interested in her hands opening and closing than the toy. 

Another cough racked Dean’s frame; he tucked his head against his shoulder and coughed again hoping he wasn’t catching something that would get the kid sick.

Dean turned back towards her and felt like it was getting worse. Surging to his feet, he took one step towards the sink, towards a possible glass of water and felt something pool in the back of his throat. 

Please don’t be blood, please don’t be blood, he chanted as he brought his hand to his mouth for the next coughing fit.

With a wet hack, his hand came away bloody. 

Dean’s head jerked to Elizabeth and he sighed in relief, whatever was happening here wasn’t affecting her. She was still transfixed on opening and closing her tiny hands. 

Dean scrambled for his phone, speed dialing Sam. “Dean?” 

Coughing into the receiver wasn’t what Dean planned to do, but he couldn’t catch his breath and it felt like needles were settling into his throat with each cough. 

“Dean!” Sam’s voice sounded tinny through the small receiver. 

Falling to his knees Dean gagged on the blood filling his mouth. 

He managed to get a cough through the blood and it felt like a damn broke, the blood that had filled his mouth was pooling on the floor while he gasped for air that blessedly filled his starving lungs. 

Over his panting for breaths he heard a happy coo and the soft sound of a few uncoordinated claps. Elizabeth was doing her ‘I see a bottle’ dance complete with leg kicks. 

Bringing the phone back to his ear, Sam was yelling, "Dean? Dean!?"

"I'm here Sammy," Dean sat on his knees and watched Elizabeth roll onto her stomach and start a determined, quick crawl towards the kitchen. She hit the linoleum of the mock kitchen and her little pants stopped offering her traction, slowing her immensely. "I’m good. But I think there's something going on around here."

Sam gave a frustrated laugh, "You call me and all I hear is you gasping for breath.” Dean could practically see Sam run a hand through his hair in frustration, “Mr. and Mrs. Studebaker were definitely killed by a witch." 

"One witch or a coven?" Dean moved to intersect Elizabeth with a leg before she could touch the grimy cupboard, he quickly rinsed his bloody hand in the sink before scooping her up and putting her back on her blanket. 

"Not sure yet. But apparently now that Studebakers are dead their land is on the market.” 

Dean sat on the floor and leaned against the bed with a sigh, his sides ached from the intensity of the coughing fit. “Fascinating Sammy. You lookin’ to buy?” 

“Maybe,” Sam snarked back, “Considering it’s got both cursed and holy ground on it.” 

“Both?” 

“They must have figured the forest behind the church was as good as a place as any to burn witches,” Sam explained. 

Elizabeth maneuvered herself to her belly again and started for the kitchen with a little giggle.

“Old witch with an ax to grind.” Dean thought aloud. Sam made a sound of agreement. “Do you have any interested parties?” 

“Don’t know yet, headed back to look into it,” Sam answered. 

Dean watched as Elizabeth crawled across the floor to the cupboard under the small kitchen set up. If she was so determined Dean figured he would pick his battles, fingers were washable. 

She reached the cupboard to the sink and smacked an open hand against it giving a displeased shriek. When it didn’t give open to her tiny hands she head-butted it. Dean couldn’t help but let out a near silent huff of laughter at her antics but seeing as she wasn't giving up on the door Dean once again stood and picked her up with one arm, depositing her back on the blanket. 

"Do you think the witches know we're onto them?" Dean asked.

"I don't see how we've been here for less than 16 hours. Why? What did you do?” Sam demanded.

Dean scoffed, “I did something?” 

“Well,” came Sam’s defensive tone, “You’re asking me if they know we’re here and I haven’t done anything that would indicate we’re looking for them.” 

With Dean talking, Elizabeth quickly crawled back to the cabinet and sat on her knees reaching up with both hands and slapping the doors hard enough to make Sam pause his rant. 

“What the fuck,” Dean muttered in amused disbelief, and pulled Elizabeth into his lap, offering her the bear again.

“Dean, what was that?” Sam implored. 

Elizabeth gave another shriek of displeasure and tossed the bear away before trying to squirm out of Dean’s hold. 

“Dude, this kid has been weird all morning,” Dean said as he shoved the phone between his cheek and shoulder to maneuver her so he could get the cabinet door open. "See BamBam there's noth-" Dean cut himself off when he spotted the hex bag in the back of the cupboard.

When he pulled it out Elizabeth started her uncoordinated clapping and gave a happy coo. 

"Sammy." Dean exhaled into the phone. 

"What?" His brother picked up something was very wrong.

"Get back here."

Dean turned his shocked expression to the bright green eyed mix of him and Castiel who, at the moment, seemed more interested in trying to fit the back of her hand in her mouth. 

\- - -

Sam opened the motel door to Elizabeth sitting on Dean’s stomach, each of his hands grasped in her tiny fingers as he laid on the bed with his feet on the floor. Dean’s fingers were wet with saliva from her chewing on them. She spotted Sam and started babbling at him, swinging her hands and by extension Dean’s hands. 

"Cash money says witch or coven knows we’re here," Dean said nodding towards to hex bag open on the table. 

Sam shot him a questioning look, "Where did you get this?" 

Dean sat up helping Elizabeth stand on his thighs. "Lizzy found it under the sink." 

" _Elizabeth_ found it?" Sam disbelief heavy in his voice.

“Think she might have done something to it too,” Dean added.

Sam shot Dean a worried frown, "She didn’t touch it did she?” 

“Naw, it was under the sink, she never made contact with it,” Dean assured him. 

Sam poked at the contents; they were similar to the one he’d found at the Studebakers. “When would they have had time to hex you?” 

Dean set Elizabeth on her blanket, exchanging the grasp she had on his fingers for the stuffed bear. 

Dean gave Sam the quick and boring play-by-play of their morning. Even going so far as to mention his failed ‘single father with baby’ pick up attempt at the restaurant. 

At Dean’s conclusion, Sam huffed a heavy "Huh." 

“Yeah.” Dean agreed from the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees. 

“So she’s like an anti-supernatural shield?” Sam concluded.

Dean gave him a patronizing look “Yeah we have our own little Tonzimmiel force field.” 

Watching Elizabeth shake the bear around before resuming chewing on its foot, Sam didn’t protest the idea. “Should we call Cas and see if that’s normal?” 

Dean stared at Elizabeth for a long moment before finally sighing, “It’s probably just a fluke, right?” secretly pleading for Sam to agree. Pleading that their family curse had somehow skipped over Elizabeth and they didn’t need angelic assistance to explain that she was indeed capable of doing things normal babies, normal _humans_ , couldn’t. 

Sam folded his hands in his lap and gave a defeated sigh, “I don’t know Dean.” His voice was small and echoed Dean’s every fear. 

\- - -

Over an hour after Dean first refused to call Castiel they were settled into a different motel a town over just to be safe -the crib they’d received had Dean’s skin crawling - “bet the owner wouldn’t put his own dog in here”- and Sam was following up his only lead so far. 

It was an hour of quality “baby time” for Dean because he didn’t even know where to begin to help with the research on this one. The old couple was easy to draw a connecting line to why they were targeted, but they hadn’t even been in town long enough to warrant anything coming after Dean. 

It was 90 minutes of Sam’s puppy dog eyes and loud, disappointing sighs from over his laptop and Dean was about ready to agree to any of his brother’s demands provided he fucking _stop_. 

“I just want to check it’s par for a Nephilim,” Sam defended when Dean finally snapped at him.

With a long-suffering groan Dean closed his eyes, “Castiel, something happened involving mini-me. Could use your input on this one.” 

Dean glanced up at Sam, then around the room. No angel. 

“ "Mini-me" might be a bit off his knowledge base,” Sam pointed out. 

Dean rolled his eyes and bowed his head, “Come on Cas, this thing is as much mine as it is yours and I’m going to start demanding child support if weird shit keeps happening.” Dean shot Sam’s unimpressed expression a cheeky smile before realizing what he’d said. “Don’t you have to be divorced to get child support?” He wondered aloud. 

“No. All it takes is a one night stand, a baby, and a paternity test.” At Dean’s suspicious eyebrow raise, Sam turned his wrists up in a mock-shrug, explaining with a lazy gesture to himself, “Pre-law.” 

Dean frowned, “What’s the one where you get divorced?” 

“Alimony.” 

The soft rustle of invisible wings announced Castiel’s appearance. Neither of the brothers so much as flinched. 

“What can I do to assist you in child rearing?” was Castiel’s greeting. 

Sam gave Castiel an amused grin, “Of course you can get alimony whether you’ve had a kid together or not.” 

Dean gave his brother his own rendition of a bitchface before turning to Castiel, “You can give me a sanity check and prove Sam wrong.” 

Castiel’s gaze stayed trained on him as he considered it. “It takes two men to dig a hole. How long does it take one man to dig half a hole?” 

The absurdity of the statement had the room holding its collective breath. 

“Not an actual sanity check,” Dean growled, “I want you to tell us _Lizzy_ didn’t dismantle a hex bag.” 

Castiel looked at Sam, then the hex bag laid out on the table, then back at Dean. He didn’t so much fidget as go even more statue-like. “I don’t feel comfortable lying to you.” 

“Told you he would know,” Sam muttered. 

Dean chose an obscene finger to silently tell his brother he was number one. He grabbed Elizabeth from the floor and stood beside Castiel as he looked over the contents of the two hex bags Sam had laid side by side to compare material. “Is that normal? She hangs around a little too long and they become useless or something?” 

Castiel dipped his head, “On rare occasions, yes.” 

“So we do have our own supernatural shield. Awesome.” Dean said relinquishing his hold to Sam when Elizabeth made a hard lean and grabby hands for her uncle. 

Castiel’s gaze shifted between Dean and Elizabeth, he opened his mouth to say something before abandoning it in an exhale only to continuing with, “That is why I am going to continue giving her charms. As I did at the restaurant.” 

“What if we found something more permanent?” Sam suggested tapping at his keyboard, “Something that can’t fall apart around her.”

Dean shot him a horrified look, “You want to ink the baby?”

“No,” Sam answered quickly, “And that might not work because as she grows it has a very good chance of becoming distorted.” 

“We’re not tagging her ribs.” Dean cut in. 

“I didn’t-“ Sam huffed in frustration. Dean was clearly not willing to talk this all the way through. 

“Neither of those are a viable solution,” Castiel explained. “The carvings would be an anomaly within her body and she would heal from them. The ink would be no different.” 

Castiel tilted his head slightly, his posture going stiff for a moment. “Did you locate the witch that planted the hex bag?” 

Sam gestured to his laptop, “We have a list of suspects who would have the motive, but we need to narrow it down.” 

“How long will that take?”

“A few hours at the most? I need to do some background checks,” Sam answered tapping at the keyboard.

“At this juncture, I cannot afford to be away from the battle field for extended periods of time,” Castiel explained giving Dean an apologetic look.

“Right. Thanks, Cas.” Dean told him sincerely. 

That look that Dean couldn’t identify was back in Castiel’s eye as they regarded each other. Castiel blinked and turned away first, “There are a few witches in this town. If you need my assistance please call.” 

He was gone with a rustle of invisible wings. 

\- - -

Sam was able to narrow it down to three candidates as possible members of the coven. 

Howard Blankenship. Investment banker. 42-years-old, married with two children. He had been hit hard by the recession and had made an almost miraculous financial recovery in the last six months alone. The fact that two of his joint-partners died of natural causes -outside the normal age demographic- probably hadn’t hurt his bottom line either. Sam was able to get in for a quick interview by posing as a journalist for ‘Men of Business’. Howard had his eye on the Studebakers’ place because he wanted to “create a safe haven for our young people because, Lord knows, I didn’t have one growing up.” Sam left with a decent amount of material if he really was going to write a decent article on the man. But more importantly he didn’t seem like their witch.

Another was Courtney Gunderson. Owner of her own booming real estate business. She was in her early 60s and Dean swore up and down he’d seen her before. Single, never married. No children. Her close dates were ruthless, selling houses within days after purchasing homes from family members of the recently deceased. Buying 8 of the last 10 homes from deaths in the area, going so far as to have paperwork filled out and submitted the same day as the death. 

Dean, with Elizabeth attached at his hip, had gone in and played up the ‘single dad looking for a fresh start’ angle. Courtney was politely forceful in showing Dean other alternatives to the “swampy forest overrun with insects. You really should look at some of our other location because you have this little cutie-muffin to think about after all.” Dean left a big ‘MAYBE’ across her profile because not having empathy for grieving families was fucked up, but not enough to convince him she was their witch. 

The last candidate was Marissa Levy. A self-employed housewife who owned the small business "Personal Potted Petunias". 38-years-old, married with no children. Her greenhouse was nationally praised for top quality Monkshood and Henbane. 

The boys agreed to go in on this one together because she was shaping up to be the best lead they had. 

The greenhouse turned shop was warm with the sweet smell of flowers thick in the air. It was near closing time, the small shop empty of customers except for them. 

Marissa, according to the picture they’d found on her official driver’s license, was kneeling in the back of the greenhouse arranging various plants into a single large planter to match the ones on display outside. 

Elizabeth was napping against Dean’s chest, his jacket draped over his shoulder to cover her, as he tried to seem interested in the potted plants while Sam swept Marissa up in conversation. “It’s amazing how you’ve managed to get some of these to bloom at the same time when they’re from different temperate regions.”

Her laugh was pleasant as she smiled up at Sam, “Family secret,” she said giving him a wink, “it’s because I’m a witch.” 

Taken aback, Sam blinked down at her in surprise. 

She laughed again before adding more dirt to the pot in front of her, “I guess that joke is a little hit or miss. My family has had a green thumb for generations.”

Dean dropped a hand back to the gun tucked into his jeans, while making sure Elizabeth was securely tucked to his chest with the other. 

Marissa added another plant to the pot, taking no notice of the two men’s sudden hostility. 

Sam caught her eye again, “And you practice?” 

Her face morphed into one of horror and she shook her head, turning to give them her full attention. “No! Heavens no! I’m not like the others. My mother taught me a thing or two. I see to the needs of plants, never mixing anything more than a minor fever reduction now and again.” 

“Others?” Dean prompted coming to stand behind Sam, making sure he kept the sleeping Elizabeth under his jacket and out of her direct line of sight. This whole hunting with a baby thing was making situations that could turn ugly fast into downright nightmare material. 

Marissa didn’t seem to notice Dean’s burden and worried her lower lip between her teeth while picking at the dirt on her gloves. “You know, other witches.” 

They watch her for a moment as she fidgeted under their combined scrutiny. 

“They’re here aren’t they.” Sam didn’t ask.

“They killed that poor old couple.” Marissa burst out. 

“And you previously placed a bid on their patch of green.” Dean pointed out. 

She shook her head and frowned at him, “I’ve had my eye on that land since before the barn raising of their great-great grandparents. My cousin was one of the first witches they killed in that back field, the field before it became the forest it is today, if I wanted to harm them I would have done it long before now.” 

“And you expect us to believe you’re different?” Sam asked.

“I’m not ruled by greed or the slave of some miserable demon.” Marissa took her gloves off with practiced ease only to slap them down in an empty space between two potted plants. “They use such evil magic it's blanketed the whole town," She gestured to the plants around her, "I’m struggling to keep my poor pets alive.” 

The brothers silently exchanged glances. They knew she could shape up to become a potential alley or be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

“Something shifted this morning, but I imagine they’ll be back to their old tricks in no time.” Marissa spat, continuing is if the boys’ wariness of her was unfounded. 

Dean felt his heart make a leap for his throat. Hex bags were one thing but it wasn’t possible for Elizabeth to do something like _that_ in such a short amount of time, right?

“Do you know when exactly?” Dean asked, hoping his voice came out steady.

The question brought Marissa out of her angry huff a little, “What? Oh, it was some time before 4:00am for sure. It felt a bit more abrupt than this group usually does.” 

Dean felt the cold touch of realization race down his spine. If it took Elizabeth being in the room for a few minutes for the hex to unravel, it might have taken a few hours for something over the whole town to come down. A few hours that Dean would have spent pacing the motel floor with her over his shoulder wondering if there was something wrong with her while she refused to succumb to sleep. 

Apparently whatever caused the supernatural to un-mojo had a side effect that didn’t allow her to sleep. 

That could be dangerous. 

Dean unconsciously shifted to rub Elizabeth’s back while she slept. 

The motion brought Marissa’s attention to him, her demeanor shifting as she focused on the bundle under Dean’s jacket. 

“What is that?” She demanded, her tone taking a sharp edge. 

Instinctively the brothers moved, Dean dropping back a step while Sam moved between them so his large frame completely blocked Marissa's view. 

Her eyes went wide in shock and fear as she stared up at Sam. “I apologize, I meant no disrespect. I-I would never dream-” She stuttered dropping her gaze to the floor. "Giants are welcome and safe here, always. It took me by surprise is all.” 

Sam watched her for any signs of deceit. When he didn’t find any he asked, “Do you know what she is?”

“I-I’ve heard stories. Read the history,” Marissa answered nodding. 

“Stories?” Sam prompted. 

“The legends of the demi-celestials. The giants of old. That’s what it is right? The product of an Angel and a human?” She looked between Sam and Dean. A small blush colored her cheeks, “Neither of you are the angel sire.” 

Sam caught her meaning and venomously shook his head, made a half aborted motion towards Dean before shaking his head again. 

Marissa hummed in understanding then really looked at them again. A smile touched her lips and she nodded as if in approval, "A few of my inherited texts mention them if you’d like to stay for dinner?”

\- - - 

That was how the brothers ended up spending the evening reading about Nephilim in a witch’s living room. 

Marissa’s husband –a mountain of a man that actually made Sam look normal sized- had come home as Marissa was getting them settled in their cozy living room. He’d given her a kiss on the cheek, not even batted an eye at two grown men and a baby occupying his living room, and without a word started preparing dinner. 

Marissa spent a while going through the house moving things around looking for various books she’d promised them. 

She would occasionally find a book unrelated to their current search, something she thought they might find interesting, and drop it by the coffee table before disappearing again to continue her search. 

They took a break from research when dinner was ready. Some type of rubbed fish because Marissa's husband “didn’t think the hunters would appreciate their usual vegetarian eating habits.” Those being the first and only words he spoke the entire time they were there. 

After dinner, they returned to the living room where Marissa dug up yet another book. 

In total she had three books that mentioned Nephilim and six others with various methods for how to put down rare supernatural creatures. At one point she laid down a thick book with the Latin title of ‘Creatures’ handwritten across the top and it took everything Dean had to not laugh at the look of excitement on Sam’s face. 

But the books that did mention Nephilim had detail that was nested among other notes of supernatural creatures. The old lore of “zombies can only be killed by wild dogs” was detailed extensively. It read more like how to leash a hound from the wild hunt but it was in there. Or how if a Succubus was old enough it could play with a human for decades and never kill them. What was most disturbing was that humans could _become_ minotaur or mermaids if a list of conditions were met or a God intervened. 

Three hours of the craziest stuff Dean had ever read and it was starting to get to him. 

Every piece of information they found on Nephilim would contradict the previous.

_A Nephilim is susceptible to illness and death when any type of magic is used around their person._

_A Nephilim’s presence can unravel any witch’s spell._

_Nephilim need to consume fresh heart blood to remain healthy._

_Nephilim must never touch or consume flesh._

_The womb mother of a Nephilim will become immortal, no harm or death will come to her._

_No womb mother has ever survived the child birth of a Nephilim._

_The birth of a Nephilim causes the sire angel to become flesh and bone._

_The sire angel is banished from their host and is imprisoned in heaven until the womb mother and Nephilim have returned to the earth._

_A single cry from a Nephilim will bring about unstoppable natural disasters._

It disgusted Dean how many references there were to _the powers in the life blood of a Nephilim_. He was starting to really understand Castiel’s conviction that Elizabeth needed to be with people who could protect her. 

Dean gave a yawn and rubbed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest. 

They were Lizzy’s best bet for surviving, but Dean still wasn’t sure if they should keep her. 

They were two hunters and occasionally an angel. What did they know about raising a baby? 

A baby that looked like the perfect mix of him and Cas. 

If they were to do this right they would find a house and settle down for a few years. A big three bedroom house with an even bigger yard on the outskirts of some no name town. 

Sam would have his own room, and because the yard would be big enough, he could get that dog he’s always wanted. 

Cas would be there too. 

“Dean.” 

Dean would wake up and get Lizzy fed and breakfast going for everyone. 

Sam would come in fresh from a run, his dog tripping at his heels. 

Cas would join them in the kitchen, giving Lizzy a good morning kiss on the head and Dean a peck on the lips. 

It would feel like home and family. 

“Dean.” 

Castiel would lead his armies as if it were his nine-to-five job. Coming home at night to help put Lizzy to sleep before they both curled up on the couch side by side. 

He’d done it with Lisa so many times it was easy to picture Castiel in her place against his side. Dean would drop a kiss to the top of Castiel’s head. Castiel’s hand would rest on Dean's chest as Dean pulled him closer. Castiel’s bright eyes watching him as he- 

“Dean!” 

Dean bolted upright, a protest twinge in his neck had him immediately doubled forward grabbing his neck. 

He squinted at Sam who was frowning at him. 

They were still in Marissa’s living room. The books they’d been looking through were in three separate stacks in front of Sam. As a cupboard closed in the other room Dean noticed the seat Marissa had occupied next to him was empty. 

What the fuck had _that_ been? A dream? 

Dean rubbed at his neck hoping it wouldn’t spasm again if he tried to straighten up. 

“Get a good nap?” Sam asked with an amused eyebrow cocked. 

Dean bit back a yawn, “Shut up I was only out for like 5 minutes.” 

Sam’s amusement was swallowed by the concerned frown that took its place. “Dean, you were out for two hours.” 

Dean dropped his hand from his neck to check the time on his wrist. It was almost 10:30

Elizabeth was chewing on her hand in a little woven basket next to Dean’s seat on the couch. When she caught sight of Dean looking at her, she gave a happy coo and kicked her feet. 

Marissa came in handing a bag to Sam. “Take good care of them huh?” She asked as he slipped two books into the bag. 

“Of course,” Sam said standing. 

Dean picked up Elizabeth, she touched his face in silent curiosity before snuggling her head under his chin.

“Oh, take the bassinet too honey,” Marissa insisted. 

Dean looked down at the tiny bed. It's small, pristine sheets looked a thousand times more appealing than the crib the motel had provided. 

“No, it’s fi-“ 

“I wasn’t asking.” She cut him off with a hand on her hip.

Sam handed her the number of one of the phones they kept a static number on for their small network of contacts, and a sincere thank you.

Dean gave a small wave to Marissa’s husband who dipped his head once in return. 

Sam with new books, and Dean with a new bassinet departed from their first witch ally.

\- - -

Back at the motel room Sam set up a research camp at the small dining table. Dean got Elizabeth situated with a bottle and a diaper change, after which Sam relented and took Elizabeth to entertain while he continued to poke at his computer. 

With the book that contained the most material on Nephilim, Dean flopped onto his bed and cracked it open. A folded piece of paper dropped into his lap. The outside had small neat hand-writing ‘I could never confront them myself, but I hope this helps. Sorry, I’m unable to do more.’ 

Inside were five clearly printed names. 

“Holy shit.” Dean breathed staring at the paper.

It was the coven. 

A quick search into the names revealed a group of incredibly fortunate people and one that didn’t seem to exist at all. 

Turned out real estate agent, Courtney Gunderson, was one of them after all.

Sam watched as Dean got Elizabeth settled for the night, bartering with her to sit still through a diaper change.

Before his eyes flashed a scene of Dean offering a baby money and making some quip about a bomb while holding a diaper. 

His head started throbbing when his vision focused back on his computer. Sam had never experienced a headache from staring at the screen too long, but there’s a first time for everything he mused running a hand over his face. Even with his eyes closed the pressure behind his eyes still didn’t lessen. 

“Advil?” Dean offered, rattling the bottle from across the room.

Sam glanced at him with a grimace and nodded, “Sure.” 

Four pills and a mouth full of water later, Sam watched Dean get the now sleeping baby situated in the Moses-bassinet. 

“How are we going to do this?” Sam asked leaning his forearms across his notes. 

“Revolutionary little thing called a gun Sam.” Dean smiled at him. 

“No,” Sam let out an exasperated sigh, “with the baby. Can’t go in guns blazing with a baby strapped to your back.”

Dean pursed his lips. It wasn’t a bad idea. Elizabeth would unravel any spells the witches set them up within minutes. Dean had decided against a wearable baby carrier because he hadn’t seen any practical application- 

“Dude!” Sam said bringing him out of his thought with a disapproving frown. 

“Oh un-wad Sammy, I’m kidding.” Mostly. “We can’t exactly call for a sitter.” 

Sam made a thoughtful face, “Actually-” 

“No.” Dean cut him off, “No, we don’t need to call Cas.”

“Dean, we need a third set of hands on this.” Sam implored.

Dean sighed and sat down heavily across the table from him. “I’m not calling Cas so he can come babysit.” 

“You’re calling Cas so _you_ can babysit,” Sam said, offering his most mild puppy dog eyes. 

Dean could feel himself caving. With Cas as Sam’s backup Dean had no problem letting his brother run headlong into the coven’s den. Dean gave a show of rolling his eyes and bowed his head, “Oh Castiel, appointed by not such divine mercy to be our guardian, we found the coven and are going to need some help with the witching hour for this one. Amen.”

The soft sound that accompanied Castiel’s appearance had Dean looking up. Pristine as ever Castiel stood in the middle of the small kitchen, his gaze focused intently on Dean. His gaze seemed to have that quality about it again, where it was almost like Castiel was trying to look through him instead of at him. 

Sam cast a look between the two of them before shuffling around some of the papers in front of him and clearing his throat, loudly, “So Cas, we have the names of the coven and have a pretty good idea where they’re going to be.” 

Castiel moved to stand over Elizabeth’s sleeping form, “You've finally found the coven?” he prompted, brushing his fingers down her cheek. He pulled another charm from the pocket of his trench coat, quickly tying it to the growing collection on her wrist. 

“This two men and a baby routine doesn't really work for hunting,” Dean said, “Sam's going to need back up." 

“You wish me to assist on your hunt?” Castiel asked in surprise.

“Just for a few hours,” Sam rushed to explain, “Dean can stay here to babysit.”

“I am willing to remain here to-” Castiel paused testing out the word, “-babysit.” 

Dean shook his head, his dream of Castiel at such ease with Elizabeth was still fresh in his mind. Something in him really liked the mental image of Castiel being all domestic and that was the last thing he needed to be dwelling on. “No telling how long this will take and you want the power hitters out in front.” Dean vetoed. 

Castiel looked like he wanted to object, his eyes glancing at the sleeping baby before returning to Dean. “As you wish.”

While Sam did a quick inventory of the Impala, Dean was left alone with Castiel. “Hey,” Dean made sure he wasn’t within touch range lest they somehow ended up pressed side by side on a couch watching some old re-runs. Dean mentally shook himself, he needed to get ahold of this. “Can you check on Sam’s wall?” Dean murmured. 

Castiel moved closer, respecting Dean’s wish to tell Sam in his own time and whispered back, “Is he starting to remember?” 

Dean fought down his initial spike in arousal at Castiel’s quiet tone, “I think he’s having headaches. I don’t know what that could mean,” Dean explained just as softly.

Unaware of the effect he was having on Dean, Castiel shot a worrying glance at the open motel door. “I’ll do what I can.” He promised. 

Dean allowed himself to drop a grateful pat on Castiel’s shoulder, “Thanks, Cas.”

\- - -

Left alone in the motel room Dean contemplated the bed’s magic fingers. It’d help pass the time but the beginning of a sleep deprivation headache told him he’d be out long before he got Sam’s call letting him know they didn’t need backup after all.

He settled on his bed, back against the headboard, feet crossed at the ankles with the book he’d set out to read a few hours earlier. Between the two books Marissa had gifted them this one contained the largest amount of references to Nephilim. 

Dean didn’t remember falling asleep, but a knock at the door woke him fully between one heartbeat and the next. 

Dean rubbed at his eyes. They had a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door and Sam would only knock if he’d forgotten his key. But even that seemed odd because Cas could mojo them into the room or something. 

Standing halfway between the bed and the door, Dean’s disoriented mind finally grasped it was 1:00am and there shouldn’t be anyone knocking at the door. Before he could return to the bed for the knife under his pillow the door burst open and in walked the attractive woman from the restaurant. 

“Holy shit it was you!” Dean gasped as he took in what looked like a carbon copy of the real estate agent Courtney Gunderson only younger. Much younger. 

Her hand flew up as Latin fell from her lips in a well-practiced drawl that had Dean falling to the floor in pain, clutching his chest. Millions of pins felt like they were digging around behind his ribcage. 

The door shut with a deafening click as she fixed a condescending look at him before leisurely walking around his prone form in a wide arc to the other side of the room.

“Quite the surprise to see you walk into my office without a scratch after that hex.” Courtney’s heeled shoes clicked as she approached Elizabeth asleep in her bassinet on Sam’s bed, “And you were still carrying this little one around. I thought for sure one or both of you would have been dead by then.”

The witch grabbed the edge of the bassinet to drag it closer to get a better look at Elizabeth’s sleeping face, ignoring Dean’s pain laced demand to “leave the kid the fuck alone”.

“How did you come to possess such an oddity?” Courtney asked, dark eyes turning towards Dean. 

“None of your business, that’s how.” Dean growled fisting the comforter of the bed to help pull himself to his knees. 

“I spotted _you_ first at the restaurant.” She told him conversationally, “It’s been such a long time since I’ve broken in a new pet and you looked like the perfect challenge.” A smile spread over her face as she seemed to entertain the idea before continuing, “Then I saw _her_.” Courtney ran a gentle hand across Elizabeth’s cheek. 

The gentle touch was so vile it woke Elizabeth from her sound slumber with a cry of displeasure. 

“Don’t touch her!” Dean barked through the pain.

Courtney clicked her tongue, “If this is all you can muster up as a defense I’m impressed you’ve managed to hold onto something this rare.”

“Rare?” Dean tried to hedge wincing at a particularly sharp stab of pain, “It’s a baby, find yourself a shady bar and wait 9 months.” 

She gave him an unimpressed look, “This little treat blended in so perfectly with your natural aura I almost overlooked her. What a mistake that would have been.” 

Dean pressed his face to the comforter for half a moment as the pain rolled through his body before glaring up at the witch as she continued studying Elizabeth’s crying face. 

“See I thought they were only a myth. Something told as, well, wishful thinking.” She gave Dean that same smile that flashed all her pretty features and Dean felt bile gather in the back of his throat. “Limitless power from one measly being? Didn’t seem possible, but when she reacted to my touch at the restaurant I knew it would at least be worth the attempt.” Courtney gathered the now fully awake and wailing Elizabeth into her arms. 

Elizabeth’s cries grew louder and more frantic as the witch cradled her close. The absolute terror in her screams shook Dean to his core. He fought the pain to move further to the top of the bed, sliding his hand under his pillow in what he hoped looked like an unintentional manner as the witch used a motherly tone to coo poison. “And you’re so strong too. Taking down my projections all across town. Bleeding you will be the most fun I’ve had in a long time.” 

The witch’s heels clicked as she moved around the bed, walking towards Dean as she neared the door. He tried to stand but only managed to get one foot under him before he was collapsing back to the mattress as it held him upright. 

Courtney’s lips twitched in a pleased smile at his pathetic display before uttering another chant, the pain causing his vision to go black on the edges as she crouched next to him. Blood flooded his mouth and he knew he’d bit his tongue. 

Ignoring Elizabeth’s tears and cries the witch grabbed her wrist and waved her hand at Dean while cooing, “Say bye-bye to your Daddy little angel monster.” 

Courtney stood slowly, watching Dean gasp in pain while Elizabeth gave a full body lurch towards Dean, almost falling from the witch’s arms at the force behind it.

The wail of desperation Elizabeth let out when she was moved further away had Dean surging to his feet and shoving the knife in his hand deep between the witch’s ribs and into her heart. 

Wrapping an arm around the pretty package the witch wore, Dean trapped Elizabeth between their bodies ensuring the screaming baby wouldn’t fall in the witch’s shock.

“Not taking the baby.” Dean growled into Courtney’s whitening face. 

Dean could feel her warm life blood flow over his hand and stain into his shirt where he held her close.

Courtney wheezed a breath and Dean knew she didn’t have much longer. “We wouldn’t be the only ones interested in something so valuable.” She gasped.

Rage surged through Dean at the threat and he twisted the knife sharply, “Now you’re one less thing to worry about.”

Releasing the knife, Dean gathered Elizabeth in his arms, letting the witch fall away dead. 

Elizabeth twisted in Dean’s grasp burying herself into his chest as her little body shook with terror. Dean’s knees gave out and he collapsed onto the corner of the bed, his heart pounding in his ears along with Elizabeth’s cries. 

Dean set Elizabeth in the crib, much to her loud protest, so he could stash the dead witch in the bathtub to bleed out instead of all over the carpet. 

He stripped off his blood-soaked clothes, rinsing his body the best he could in the sink before grabbing a change of pants. There was blood on the carpet that Dean needed to see to before it set in, but the screaming baby in the crib took priority over a lot of things. Like finding a shirt. 

Elizabeth’s little face was red and she was starting to gasp for breath with how hard she was crying at being set down and Dean being out of her sight. At this rate her little-warbled cries wouldn’t stop no matter how much he shushed and rocked her. 

The click of the door knob had Dean going on the offensive; cradling Elizabeth close with one arm he grabbed the knife from the bathroom counter, holding it ready to throw at whatever threat came through the door. 

The sight of Castiel’s trench coat and Sam’s floppy hair made him so dizzy with relief and his knees threaten to give out again.

“Dean?” Sam called pausing in the doorway. 

“We need to go.” Dean answered dropping the knife to the bed. 

Sam moved aside to let Castiel in the room and closed the door. “What happened?” 

“ "Fairest Of Them All" paid me a visit and now she’s sleeping with the fishes.” Dean answered as he started throwing Elizabeth’s stuff in the diaper bag with one hand. 

“She came here?!” Sam exclaimed finally noticing the pool of blood on the floor.

Dean threw the blue stuffed bear at the diaper bag in a fit of anger, “Apparently angel babies are rare enough to want to kidnap them when I’m in the fucking room!”

“It explains why I was unable to locate the fifth member,” Castiel unnecessarily informed Sam. “The powers in the life blood of a Nephilim can sometimes be enough to shape the course of history. It’s no wonder she would make such a bold move.”

Dean clenched his jaw at the thought of that bitch with her hands all over his screaming kid. He brought his hand up to assure himself Elizabeth was still in his arms. “Well your fifth is in the bathtub,” Dean said nodding towards the bathroom door. 

“Shit.” Sam muttered moving to help Dean pack.

Castiel frowned in confusion, “Why do you have fish in the bathtub?” 

Sam huffed a mildly amused laugh and started folding the baby blanket. Dean watched the angel’s face for a hint he was kidding. 'Of course he’s not kidding', Dean chastised himself. 

“It means she’s dead.” Dean said striding towards Castiel, “Take Lizzy, I have to get this blood up.”

Elizabeth accepted the person switch with the smallest hiccup of breath before burying her face into Castiel’s neck as if she’d done it a thousand times before. For all they knew, she had. 

The scene before him had Dean pausing as Castiel didn’t hesitate to begin a slow sway. Everything about it screamed _right_. 

Dean shook himself and shrugged on a shirt. 

He had a job to do.

It always kind of bothered Sam how easy it was to move a body from a motel room to the parking lot without being seen. He was grateful for it, but it still bothered him. 

The Impala was loaded up, dead witch wrapped in the tarp that was kept in the trunk for occasions such as this. 

“We’re packed,” Sam announced as he came back into the motel.

Dean had two motel towels he was alternating to mop up the baking soda and vinegar mix he was using to get the blood out of the carpet. 

“One more pass and we should be good.” Dean told him as he wordlessly held out the now pink spotted towel for Sam to rinse.

Sam took it without comment, turning to run it under the bathroom faucet. 

“Dean,” Castiel called from his seat at the table. 

“Yeah Cas?” Dean answered, not bothering to look up from the patch of rug he was kneeling over. 

“How have you been sleeping?” 

Dean forced a small laugh, 'like the dead', he thought pressing the first towel into the rug. “We have got to work on your small talk buddy.” He answered avoiding the question. 

Sam returned with the rinsed towel and dropped it next to Dean. 

“And the babe?” Castiel urged. 

“Sleeps like a baby, Cas,” Dean answered. “Sam’s been sleeping fine in case you were wondering about him too.” 

Sam took the empty seat across from Castiel with a rueful smile. 

“Not going to get much better.” Dean concluded giving the floor one more scrutinizing look before gathering the motel towels and disappearing into the bathroom. 

Castiel looked down at the baby cradled in his arms. Elizabeth had calmed down considerably but had been fighting sleep with the occasional distressful coo for the last 20 minutes. Castiel cradled her head in his hand, his thumb gently brushing back and forth above her ear. Her big eyes gave him a slow blink before she let out a big yawn and finally lost to the pull of sleep. 

Sam sat in silent fascination as he watched Castiel interact with Elizabeth. Other than the inhuman stiffness of his arms he looked completely at ease holding her. It was odd to think of the angel as capable of being nurturing but he was proving Sam wrong. Very wrong. 

“We’re clean. Let’s mosey.” Dean announced exiting the bathroom. 

Dean moved in to take the sleeping baby from Castiel, leaning in far closer than Sam had seen Dean be with someone he wasn’t actively pulling the moves on. Castiel seemed unphased as their shoulders brushed when Dean took the sleeping baby into his own arms. 

“Come on munchkin.,” Dean muttered settling Elizabeth over his shoulder. She gave a huff of displeasure at being moved but settled against Dean without waking. 

Dean hummed a few bars of ‘Bad Company’ as he walked out of the motel room, leaving the door open behind him. 

“Sam?” 

Sam startled at his name. Castiel had been so intently watching the gentle way Dean cradled the baby, Sam assumed they’d both forgotten he was in the room. “Yeah Cas?” 

There was a fierce look of determination in those intense blue eyes that Sam was unfamiliar with seeing. “If something changes call for me.” 

Sam didn’t have time to ask him for an example before he was alone in a quiet motel room. 

\- - -

Four hours and 300 miles later Dean sat on the edge of his bed cradling Elizabeth in his arms while Sam softly snored from the bed next to his. 

Despite how exhausted he felt he couldn’t shake the absolute terror he felt when that witch held Lizzy. It amazed him it hadn’t even been more than a few days and he was this attached to her. 

If it were anyone else’s child he could imagine being just as scared for her but the heartache at imagining Elizabeth gone was beyond anything he could fathom for a nameless child. Dean wanted to chalk it up to his protective nature but he knew this was different. 

Having a kid of his own was not something he ever entertained beyond pipe dreams. Ben was as close as he figured he would ever get. But even now toying with the thought of giving Lizzy up to another family, even a family of hunters, put Dean’s stomach in knots.

Their lifestyle wasn’t suitable to raise a child. He _knew_ that. First hand he knew that. 

Dean glanced over at Sammy as he slept face down on his pillow. Dean would have given anything for Sammy to have a normal life. To protect him from the truth of the monsters in the night. 

But -and Dean didn’t like to think about this often- if they hadn’t been raised in this life Yellow Eyes’ plan for Sam would have gone off without a hitch and Lucifer would have had his very own Samsquatch prom suit for a few years now. 

If they tried to shelter Lizzy from this life would they really be doing what was best for her?

Elizabeth gave a half-hearted rub across her eyes before easing back into a peaceful sleep. 

Dean cradled her close and pressed his forehead to hers, taking a deep breath trying to calm his racing mind. He didn’t dare to fan the flame-of-hope in keeping her but maybe-maybe for just a little longer. 

At least until they figured out a way to keep her disguised from the supernatural then she could grow up in a safe place as normal as she was able. 

\- - -

Three figures stood over the loose earth of freshly covered up grave. 

“It’s tainted but strong.,” the first male announced. 

“Far stronger than one should be from the time we discovered it.” The female said concerned, “I worry the sire took a female vessel. It is the only explanation as to why we were never alerted of a union of the daughters of man and an angel.”

The second male’s upper lip lifted in a disgusted sneer, “The lengths these rogues will go to conceal these beasts and avoid punishment is shameful.” 

“Shall we dig the deceased? The closer I get to the contact site the more accurate account I can provide,” the first male asked.

“No.” The second male commanded, “The atrocity is revealed to us often enough that wouldn’t be warranted. We will rely on another search formation.” 

A sudden strong gust of wind left the grave once again indistinguishable from any other patch of earth, half covered with wind-blown leaves.


	4. Chapter 4

It was no surprise the attempted kidnapping made Elizabeth clingy. 

Dean being her primary caregiver it only made sense she would want him, but to both the brothers’ surprise, she was just as adamant for Sam’s attention. 

Dean had taken it as a means to introduce Sam to Baby Care 101. 

Which was just as well because three days after their run in with the witches Dean was sleeping about as much as Elizabeth. Sam noticed it started with Dean nodding off earlier and sleeping in later. Mostly Sam assumed it was because Dean was tired from getting up at Elizabeth’s slightest cry at night. 

Jessica had a nephew they’d babysat for a few days shortly after they’d got their first place together. The first time the little guy started to cry in the middle of the night Jessica made the comment “sometimes babies cry when they’re put down for the night. He might not want anything, but he’ll cry until he falls back asleep.” Of course, she had gotten up shortly after to go coddle the kid but the comment stuck with him.

A quick search turned up 'coddling babies when they cry at night might not be the best because it encourages bad sleeping habits'. When Sam brought his findings up with Dean, his brother had blown off the idea altogether saying if she was having fits there was a reason for it. 

But the second night Dean hadn’t scooped her up when her first cry woke Sam. It didn’t take long, less than two minutes -she must have Dean’s attention span - for her to fall back asleep, becoming bored calling for them. 

Sam brought up the next morning saying he was glad Dean was taking his advice on this one. 

Only when Dean dismissed him altogether saying, “She didn’t cry at all last night” did Sam realize Dean _slept through it_. 

Being a hunter didn’t allow for heavy sleepers and although short, her cries were far from quiet. 

The next night was no better. Dean had passed out before Elizabeth was finished with her bottle and when Sam put her into the bassinet, Dean slept through her short ‘I don’t want to be put down for sleep’ fussing. 

Elizabeth was a good baby just a bit of a night owl. And Sam was new to this but he was pretty sure midnight wasn't the ideal bedtime for a baby. 

Around the same time, Dean started sleeping like the dead, Sam noticed a fourth charm on Elizabeth’s bracelet. Sam figured Castiel probably paid Dean a visit while he was out on a coffee run or some other errand. Dean hadn’t brought it up, so Sam assumed it hasn't been important enough to mention..

Every instinct Sam had told him something was wrong the following day when Dean wordlessly tossed him the Impala keys after lunch and promptly passed out in the passenger seat. Dean slept for over three hours and when he gave a jaw-popping yawn after getting Elizabeth situated at their latest motel stop, Sam had had enough. 

“There’s something wrong with you.” 

Dean blinked tired eyes at him before snarking back, “You’re no Carson Daly yourself.” 

Sam shot him you’re-not-as-funny-as-you-think-you-are look before leaning against the kitchen counter, fingers drumming against the ledge. “I mean you might be sick.” 

Dean scoffed and turned back to his staring contest with Elizabeth, “Just living the joys of parenthood Sammy.” 

“Sleeping 12 hours a day is not normal for anyone Dean, new parent or otherwise.” Sam argued.

“Maybe I’m the exception to the rule,” Dean dismissed. 

Sam was unconvinced, “Are you feeling sick?” 

“No. And I don’t even feel that tired.” 

“Cas said to let him know if anything changes.”

Dean frowned in disbelief up at him, “He was talking about the kid. Why would he want to know if something was happening with me?” 

Sam huffed and admitted, “I don’t know Dean, but this exhausted all the time thing is starting to freak me out.”

“Sorry to be an inconvenience,” Dean muttered turning back to Elizabeth with a putout frown.

Sam gave a frustrated growl in equal parts at Dean’s stubbornness and the glimpse of his perceived self-worth, “It’s starting to _worry me_ ,” he implored, “What if this is something serious? If we call Cas we’ll know for sure. And if it is just the flu he should be able to patch you up no problem.” 

Dean glared at him, “I’m not calling the guy so he can come play Doctor.” 

Sam's vision exploded in white and in his mind's eye he was tied to a chair and looking up at Castiel. The angel stood over him while Dean paced and glared in equal parts behind him. _”Are you speaking in tongues?”_

“Sam?” 

The room around him snapped back into place, as Dean’s concern overrode his initial irritation. 

Sam gave himself a mental shake, “Then I’ll call him.” 

“And tell him what?” Dean pitched his voice high in a horrible impression of Sam’s own, “Castiel can you give my brother a once over? My mother henning can’t cure a common cold. Amen.” 

A subtle shift of air in the room accompanied Sam’s exasperated, “Dean.” 

“Sam,” Castiel’s voice had the brothers flinching in alarm, “what is wrong?” 

The angel stood in the middle of the room his bright eyes volleying between the brothers, assessing them both. 

Sam’s huff of amused disbelief broke the silence and he was sure if Dean wasn’t actively trying to get a baby to go to sleep he’d be shouting. “How did _that_ count as a prayer?” Dean demanded.

Castiel stared at him, “Sam isn’t-“ He stopped himself and focused his gaze on Sam. 

Sam’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Sam isn’t what?” Castiel held up two fingers and Sam jerked his head back against the cupboard as he instinctively tried to dodge the fingers Castiel pressed to his forehead. The pressure from a looming migraine he’d had since before lunch was suddenly gone. 

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam sighed in relief.

“You are most welcome Sam,” Castiel acknowledged before turning back towards Dean, letting Sam relax back against the counter. “Sam did not have any foreign bacteria in his body that would indicate an illness,” Castiel announced. 

Dean rolled his eyes, “Nobody is sick, Cas.” 

“Then it’s something else.” Sam insisted. 

Dean shot his brother an I-will-end-you glare. “It’s not anything Sam.”

“If you went to sleep right now you’d sleep until noon tomorrow. Easily. Probably longer if no one was around to wake you up,” Sam rushed to explain.

“Whatever.” Dean dismissed setting aside Elizabeth’s empty bottle to stand as he tucked the practically asleep baby against his shoulder to burp. 

“What is your average amount of sleep a night?” Castiel questioned with a confused frown. 

“I don’t know Cas, I don’t exactly keep a dream diary,” Dean deadpanned. 

Castiel’s confused look took on an annoyed edge as Dean avoided the question. 

“He’s been averaging 10 hours for the past four days,” Sam told the angel, counting the days off on his fingers, “Slept for 12 hours the night before last. Last night was just shy of 10 and then he took a three-hour nap in the car.” 

“You just firmly claimed your crown as the creepy brother,” Dean informed Sam with a pointed look. 

“Has his sleep been deeper since the second night?” Castiel asked bringing the conversation back between him and Sam. 

“Yeah. He’s been sleeping through most of Elizabeth’s fussing cries.” 

“I thought Sam was springing out of bed to try his hand at this baby thing. She’s all cuddly first thing in the morning,” Dean defended.

“And what of your appetite?” Castiel asked. 

Dean shook his head, “The same. Because there is _nothing_ wrong.” He finished with a growl. 

Castiel turned expectantly to Sam. Sam considered it for a moment. “Day before yesterday he finished off half of my cobb salad after he was done with his burger.” 

Castiel turned a questioning look to which Dean’s defenses rose to, “I don’t like rabbit food, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t eat it. You two nerds need a better hobby, or find someone else to gang up on.”

The angel’s unnerving stare was fixed back on him. Dean clenched his jaw and raised his chin in defiance, refusing to be intimidated. Without breaking eye contact, Castiel walked towards him. 

His footsteps were long and measured giving Dean plenty of time to move away.Like hell Dean was going to back down. There was _nothing wrong with him_. Castiel moved as close as he was physically able; he only thing between them was a sleeping baby and the arm Dean was using to support her back. 

Dean reflexively licked his lips.

“Nephilim are rare,” Castiel said his voice low and dangerous, “because humans have perceived the development of a Nephilim’s natural gift as nothing more than a parasite feeding on the mother host. If you are acting unusual, it needs to be addressed.” 

Dean’s hackles rose at that, his hold on Elizabeth tightened a fraction, “What do you mean _addressed_?” 

Castiel watched him for a moment before looking down to the top of Elizabeth’s head. Even this close, and not knowing where this conversation was going, Dean wasn't convinced Castiel would harm her. 

“Angels pull their grace from their connection to Heaven,” Castiel said, “That connection isn’t offered to Nephilim so they pull what you might call their grace from the most available source of energy.” 

They stared at each other for a long moment, Dean silently pleading that Castiel was fucking with him. “Me?” Dean finally hissed, “You’re saying she’s pulling energy from me?”

“Yes. And with the consumption of energy the child’s natural gift is born from a trait of the mother.” Castiel paused a beat before continuing, “In this unique case, this trait comes from you.”

“Trait? What trait?” Dean paused as an unsettling pit in his stomach grew. “You mean with the hex bags and witch’s magic.” 

It was reminiscent of how everything fell apart around Dean. How he couldn’t seem to keep anything together. 

Couldn’t keep Sammy from leaving all those times. 

How he’d bailed on Lisa and Ben.

Lizzy had the same trait, just on a supernatural level. 

Dean felt his stomach jump and lodge in the back of his throat, he was going to be sick. Lizzy was cursed after all.

As if reading his mind Castiel put a hand above Dean’s on Elizabeth’s back, “It’s not merely her presence that disenchants an item,” Castiel waited until Dean met his gaze, “It’s her intelligence.”

Dean shook his head, already denying it was something she inherited from him, “She’s like 8 months old.” 

“She is an 8 month old _Nephilim_ ,” Castiel said as if that explained everything. “She already has the ability to see and touch many things a human would spend decades learning.”

“And she’s doing it with her mind,” Dean scoffed. 

“It is why I am continuing to give her enchantments that keep her hidden. She keeps rendering them useless because to her they are mere playthings,” Castiel said.

Dean looked down to her little wrist where a fourth charm sat among the others. “When did she get the fourth one?”

“She’s actually on her eighth charm,” Castiel informed him. 

“What the hell Cas?” Dean demanded. “How do you keep finding us if these charms are like the tagging on our ribs?”

“I am made aware when each charm begins to weaken, long before it is broken. Making sure she stays hidden was more important than letting you know when it was happening,” he unapologetically explained. 

Dean didn’t want to know how many times Castiel popped by when he was sleeping without a word. He ran a hand over his face and sighed, “So what’s our next move?” 

Castiel took a long moment and stared at Elizabeth’s sleeping form. “I’d like to monitor her development, but I need to make arrangements first.”

“We can report in on baby watch,” Dean objected, “Whatever you’ve got going on in Heaven is more important than this.” 

The same considering look Castiel graced Elizabeth with was turned on Dean. They stared at each other long enough for Dean to question if he was imagining the heat in Castiel’s gaze. Wondering, not for the first time, what exactly Castiel saw when he looked at him. 

“That wouldn’t be necessary. I’ll return shortly.” Then the angel was gone. 

With a muttered curse, Dean shook his head and started getting Elizabeth situated for bed.

Sam had silently moved from the kitchen counter to sit at the table, his fingers laced between his knees. He was pretty sure Dean and Castiel forgot he was in the room, again. It was just as well because he didn’t want to get between them while they bickered like an old married couple.

Didn’t think he could get between them, as close as they were standing.

It was making Sam second-guess his assumption that if Dean ever slept with Castiel, he would at least get a vulgar “tapped that” comment from his brother. 

Absently watching Dean put Elizabeth in her bassinet, Sam was struck by how differently, dare he say lovingly, Dean put her to bed compared to the first night they had her. Dean wasn’t giving her little round cheeks kisses like a hallmark movie dad or anything, but his gaze was soft as he watched her face, peaceful in sleep, for a long moment. Absently giving her tummy a gentle rub before he turned to gather a few of her things together and throw them in the disarray that was her diaper bag. Sam couldn’t draw any further conclusions about his brother’s actions because Castiel suddenly, and oddly silently, appeared next to the table, causing Sam’s heart to jump into his throat.

A moment later Dean turned towards the kitchen and jerked in surprise at Castiel’s silent entry as well. 

“Here,” Castiel announced, setting a box on the table.

Dean set an empty bottle next to the kitchen sink, joining them at the table.

“It’s a box,” Dean finally said. 

“With Enochian carved into it,” Sam added.

“It’s a curse box,” Dean acknowledged.

“Most of the sigils and symbols on this box match those used to conceal what you know as Pandora’s Box,” Castiel informed them. 

Sam reached curiously for it, but Dean slapped his hand away before he could touch, earning a mild bitch face in return.

“So a very powerful curse box,” Dean amended. 

“It’s to keep a collection of wards for Elizabeth on hand if she should need them and I am unable to get her another.” 

Dean frowned at the angel, “You planning on going somewhere?” 

“No. But that does not mean that I can’t be pulled away.”

“Not ominous at all,” Dean muttered.

“But if I did- ” Castiel started, suddenly grabbing Dean’s right wrist and pulling a black stone from the pocket of his trench coat with the other hand. He brought the stone to Dean’s wrist before cupping the stone and Dean’s wrist between his hands.

Dean hissed at the sudden heat encircling his wrist and tried to jerk away, but Castiel held firm; only releasing him when the heat dissipated, “-this will tell you if she needs another ward.”

A solid, intricately braided band was wrapped around Dean’s right wrist. He frowned at the bracelet; it wasn’t exactly tight, but it sat right against his skin. 

“So a Signal Watch for Superman?” Dean mused. 

Castiel squinted at him, “If a Signal Watch for Superman glows white when touched by a Nephilim’s aura, then yes.” 

Dean accepted Castiel completely missing the reference with a long-suffering sigh. “How do I know which one?” 

Castiel didn’t need him to elaborate. “The charm she has dismantled will appear tarnished. It’s something I built into each ward.” 

“And if it’s more than one?” 

“She only works on one charm at a time. We will never need to replace more than one at a time,”.” Castiel explained. 

Dean gave the bracelet another look-over, “There’s no clasp.” 

“You have no need to remove it,” Castiel dismissed, placing the mock-Pandora box next to the diaper bag. 

Dean frowned at the back of Castiel’s head before glancing at the bracelet. It did look like something he would have picked out for himself given the chance. He liked it even more for the peace of mind it provided -something that had been a silently growing concern of his- they would now know if Elizabeth was adequately warded at any point in time. 

Dean caught Castiel’s eye and lifted his wrist, “Thanks, Cas.”

“You are most welcome, Dean,” Castiel said dipping his head in acknowledgment.

Dean turned, putting an end to the conversation, and started gathering up Elizabeth’s stuff. The habit of paranoia in the event they would need to leave somewhere in a heartbeat. 

Once done, Dean flipped on the TV and leaned against the headboard. 

Castiel was still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. 

Dean glanced at him only to find that intense gaze watching him, “Sit down, you’re making me uncomfortable.” 

Castiel looked between the empty seat across from Sam and the empty half of Dean’s bed before making his decision and sitting on the bed with Dean. 

Dean didn’t object, so Castiel rearranged the pillows between them. 

Sam looked up just in time to watch Castiel check Dean’s posture before mimicking his legs stretched out across the bed, crossed at the ankles, and back leaned against the headboard. Sam ducked behind his laptop to hide his amusement. 

Halfway through a rerun of Top Gun, that always seemed to always be on, Dean smothered his third yawn behind his hand. 

“You should rest,” Castiel told him. 

“Naw, I’m good. If this is going to be the norm, I should try to fight the power a little bit.” 

Castiel gave him a skeptical look but didn’t argue. 

Not 15 minutes later Dean was asleep upright. 

Sam gave his sleeping brother a long suffering look over his laptop. He knew if he left Dean to sleep like that, he’d be pissy the next morning because it put an unnecessary strain on his neck. Closing his laptop, made his way to the bathroom, nudging the bottom of Dean’s still boot clad foot as he passed. “Sleep proper.” 

Dean woke with an unhappy groan and a “yeah, yeah” then moved to start unlacing his boots. 

Sam disappeared into the bathroom. 

Dean gave a sleepy frown at Castiel still sitting on his bed, “You got someplace to be?” He asked in a sleep rough voice. 

Castiel silently held up the remote. 

Dean rolled his eyes and with exhaustion in his every movement he toed off his boots, tugged off his flannel and kicked off his pants before moving the covers back as much as Castiel’s perch would allow and climbed under the covers. 

Sam came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, doing a double-take at the two of them on Dean’s bed. 

“You uh, gonna be up for a while?” Sam asked, gesturing to the TV. 

Castiel nodded, glancing at Dean briefly beside him, his voice low as to not wake him. “Unless there is something else you’d prefer I do?” 

Sam shook his head, “It’s fine, just keep the volume low.” He flipped off the lights and crawled under his own covers. 

It was the first night of many Castiel stayed in their motel. 

\- - - 

After a couple days of a totally creepy-sleepless angel in their room, Dean wasn’t sleeping nearly as long as he had been the past few days. 

He arrived at that conclusion because he was still catching cat naps during the day, but he wasn’t as exhausted. 

Another oddity to Castiel being around is he would disappear for a few minutes each time Dean settled Elizabeth in with her bottle. 

Feigning for casualness Dean asked Castiel where he was always disappearing to. 

“To research more advanced wards,” was his short response. 

Sam was intrigued by that and before Dean knew it, the nerds were deep in conversation about all the different variations of protection.

Castiel confided he was having to get creative with her wards, resorting to a mixed bag of new and old techniques. His “old techniques” were pre-biblical plague type stuff while the “new techniques” were things he’d gleaned from watching the rise and fall of civilization over the centuries. 

It wasn’t a simple manner of reinforcing the existing wards every time Elizabeth broke one, Castiel explained, it was as though she was absorbing the magic of the items and that’s what weakened them. 

The nerds started spitballing stuff that Dean was pretty sure was extinct or words they made up to fuck with him.

The whole thing reminded Dean of how Dad and Bobby would get to talking about something and before long it was completely over Dean’s head and he’d have to go off and play blocks with baby Sammy or join him from an impromptu nap just for something to do.

Eventually, Dean’s complete lack of interest in nerd-speak was how he ended up suggesting they head to Bobby’s. Bobby had a garage Dean could tinker in while they tossed around suggestions. And it would be a nice change of pace for Bobby to look into something that didn’t end in someone dying bloody if it fell apart.

\- - -

Knowing Bobby, he wouldn’t believe it if they told him he practically had a grandchild over the phone. Sam suggested they only tell him they were coming to talk about wards and weren’t alone, citing Elizabeth’s big green eyes would win him over no matter how mad Bobby was at them. 

Bobby met them at the door. 

He did a double take at the baby gurgling around a pacifier on Dean’s hip. “You Irena Sendler now?” 

“Who? No? I was, ah, was threatened into taking care of this one.” Dean shifted the combined weight of the duffle and a diaper bag over his shoulder as Sam came in behind him with the bassinet and his own bags. 

“Guess who’s a new parent!” Sam announced kicking the door closed behind them. 

Dean held Elizabeth out for Bobby’s inspection, but more for the old hunter to take her and free up Dean’s hands. 

Accepting her into his arms, Elizabeth blinked her big green eyes up at the old mechanic before giving a happy coo and trying to bat at his hat. “Boy, I remember giving you the talk and I know your daddy did too.” 

Sam snorted and held the bassinet above his head so he could move around them. “She didn’t get the Paternal DNA from Dean,” he stage whispered, shuffling past them. 

A look of horror passed over Bobby’s face and he not so subtly looked at Dean’s middle. 

“Not helping, Sam,” Dean growled, readjusting the diaper bag on his shoulder. 

Sam laughed again and disappeared into the kitchen. 

“You gonna explain or is Sam just gonna keep hinting you grew lady parts?” Bobby said jerking a thumb Sam’s direction. 

More than used to this joke from Sam by now, Dean replied without thinking, “Technically I am the mom.”

Bobby stared at him, unblinking, before a dark look of disbelief started taking over his face. “You wanna run that by me again?” 

“Well, Cas is the father,” Dean tried to backpedal, clenching his teeth and trying to ignore Sam’s cackling from the kitchen. “Not this Cas. The kid is from another world’s Chick-Dean and Castiel,” Dean said exasperatedly. 

“In another world Cas put a bun in your oven?” Bobby clarified. 

“Yes. No. Fuck, can we not do this in the hall? She needs a change, and Cas will be back with another ward any minute.” 

Bobby’s unimpressed look was ruined when Elizabeth knocked his hat sideways, “Boy, start from the beginning.” 

\- -

Bobby leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh. 

Sam was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, with Elizabeth between his knees as he danced her bear around. Dean watched them from his perch on a kitchen chair he’d dragged up against Bobby’s desk so he could sit and have access to the whiskey Bobby was keeping close. Castiel had appeared in the kitchen shortly after they’d arrived, asking if Bobby had any ‘Garden Angelica’. The angel was now leaning against the bookcase in the corner, alternating between watching Sam and Elizabeth and idly flipping through one of Bobby’s older books, seemingly uninterested in the recap Dean was providing. 

“So this other world Sam was tapping into the power of his soul?” 

Of course, that’s what Bobby would get hung up on. Dean gave a shrug, “The way her journal tells it, with a little archangel assistance her Sammy was an evil little badass.” 

Sam didn’t look up from Elizabeth, responding with a dry, “Thanks, Dean” 

Bobby eyed the little munchkin who was fascinated with Sam opening and closing his hand, occasionally touching her nose. 

Bobby had been around long enough to recognize there was something between Dean and Castiel - would have to be damn near blind to not see it- but he also figured on the off chance Dean bucked the hell up, the most they’d have to show for it would be matching bands on their left fingers. Never in a hundred years would Bobby have guessed “show up on his doorstep with a baby”, for all intents and purposes, a biological baby at that. 

It was no surprise Dean’s angel-kid would pick up breaking charms. Smart ran in Dean’s blood, no matter how much the boy denied it.

Bobby caught Castiel looking up from his book to stare at him with those intense blue eyes for a long moment. “Angel mind reading seemed to be in full effect today,” Bobby mused, pouring another drink. 

One of the kitchen phones started to ring and Bobby stood with a half glass of whiskey and, without breaking stride, set the glass on the bookshelf well within the angel’s reach as he passed. 

He hoped Castiel was up for the parenting challenge. 

Dean wandered into the kitchen to pick at the pizza leftover from lunch. Popping a few pieces of sausage in his mouth before closing the lid with a sigh, he took a moment to breathe in ‘Safe’ and ‘Family’. 

Bobby was barking orders and threats into the phone. Sam was playing ‘don’t eat the dust bunnies –ick’ with Elizabeth as she crawled around on the floor. And Castiel was looking over Bobby’s collection of books, randomly stacking a few on the desk. 

A peace settled over Dean that he hadn’t felt in ages. Even with Lisa and Ben, Dean hadn’t felt this- this- dare he say _at ho me_. 

Bobby hung up the phone and took a long look at Sam before nodding his head towards to hallway, indicating Dean should follow him. Dean bit back a sigh, and just like family, it involved awkward conversations Dean would rather not have.

“Anything new with Sam since he tried to go Mordred on my ass?”

Dean shook his head, “Nothing that I can see. I think he keeps getting headaches, but I’m not about to test that theory.” They both watched Sam blow a raspberry onto Elizabeth’s stomach before holding her above his head only to do it again while she let out a piercing shriek of happiness. “He’s just Sam again and I’m not in a hurry to burst his bubble.”

Bobby looked at him sharply, “You plan on tellin’ him?” At Dean’s nod, Bobby felt he needed to clarify, “About being soulless?” 

“Yeah, Cas thinks he can keep the wall Death put up intact. Heal it like any physical wound,” Dean finished with a shrug.

Bobby dipped his head and leveled Dean with a look from under the bill of his hat, “And Sam still doesn’t know because you haven’t found a good time to tell him?”

At the hard tone Dean’s head snapped up to look at the old hunter. He was familiar with that ‘you better not be lying to me boy’ tone. “Well, yeah.” 

Bobby, quick as lighting, reached up and smacked Dean upside the head before pointing to the living room and demanding in an angry whisper, “Get out there and tell your brother ya damn idjit.” 

Bobby snagged a beer from the fridge as he muttered about how the lot of them and their secrets were going to be the death of him. 

Dean stalled as long as he could; Elizabeth had been changed, fed, and was currently pawing at Grandpa Bobby’s beard. Dean knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. 

“Sammy, can I see you for a minute?” Dean called from the kitchen. 

Sam looked up from the book he had across his lap and nodded, standing to follow without question. Dean motioned for Castiel to follow too.

“ ‘Bout time,” Dean heard Bobby mutter as he closed the door. 

Obediently the two followed Dean outside to the garage where he took a seat at the workbench near the car lift. Sam hesitantly sat across the table from him, lacing his fingers in his lap. Waiting silently for Dean to start. 

Dean hooked the heel of his boot on the footrest of his stool and squared his shoulders, bracing himself as much as he could for this conversation. “Don’t get mad,” he warned.

Sam watched his brother for any signs of guilt that usually accompanied Dean telling Sam he'd gone and done something reckless and stupid to pull Sam's ass out of the proverbial fire, “Why? Dean, what did you do?” 

“I didn’t-“ Dean stopped himself and shook his head, sticking to what he’d rehearsed, “Your soul was in the pit for a year and a half.”

A confused frown pulled at Sam’s brow as he started to nod before understanding lit his face. Dean could hear the anxiety building in his tone, “Something did happen while I was out,” Sam accused.

“Your _soul_ was in the pit,” Dean stressed. He hesitated with how to word it. 

_Lights were on but nobody was home._

_You were possessed, but by you._

_Crowley went all Master of Puppets bringing you back incomplete._

“Your body wasn’t.” Castiel spoke up from Dean’s elbow.

Dean closed his eyes with a mix of gratitude and frustration. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard.

Sam’s voice came out demanding with a hysterical edge to it, “What?” 

“Your soul was in the pit for 18 months but you, your body, was topside,” Dean paused. “Hunting.” 

Horror flickered over Sam's face, fear coloring his voice, “I-I don’t remember any of it.”

Castiel dropped a hand to Dean’s shoulder in reassurance as he started explaining in Dean’s stead. His voice, a deep steady calm, highlighted what “Sam” had been doing for the past year and a half. Dean would pipe up and add the parts Castiel hadn’t been there for himself.

It struck Dean sitting there, watching Sam come to terms with what happened, just how attached to Castiel Dean had become. Castiel took a vested interest in Dean and his wellbeing, and without question that extended to Sam. Dean wasn’t the greatest with words and he knew from their history Sam would have been beyond furious before Dean could wrap it up and make him believe it was okay. That it wasn’t Sam's fault. 

But here Castiel was just plowing through, laying it all out and trusting Dean to take care of Sam in the aftermath. 

When Castiel was finished, Sam sat staring into space with unshed tears in his eyes and his shoulders hunched. 

Dean knew what he’d want in the face of something like this. Jogging the short distance to the Impala he brought back a bottle of whiskey. Uncapping it, he silently passed it to Sam who accepted it with shaking hands and took a long pull. 

Castiel placed two fingers against Sam’s forehead, repairing what he could of the wall.

Sam gave a shaky sigh of relief, “Thanks, Cas.” He gave Dean a watery smile, “Guess that explains the headaches.” 

Seeing Sam try to be so small, the weight of everything he’d done but could have done nothing to stop it, had Dean pulling his not-so-little brother into a hug; letting him know without words he wasn’t in this alone. Sam’s long arms came around Dean’s middle in a hug that never failed to make Dean feel simultaneously like a protective big brother and like he’s being consumed/absorbed. 

“But really Sammy, a Dodge?” Dean teased. 

Sam gave a bark of laughter that ended in a hiccupped sob and a flood of whispered apologies and promises to “make it right” against Dean’s neck. 

Dean wanted to tell him he had nothing to make up for, but the words stuck in his throat so he just hugged his brother tighter. Sammy was in one piece and on two feet, and Castiel could keep it that way. 

Dean caught Castiel’s eye over Sam’s head, the angel was watching them with a fond expression. 

Dean mouthed “Thank you”. A small smile appeared on Castiel’s lips as he dipped his head, wordlessly accepting the thanks.

\- -

20 minutes after Sam composed himself, and half a bottle of whiskey between the brothers, they came back inside to Elizabeth slobbering all over a wooden spoon Bobby must have fished out of the drawer. She was “helping” him research by slapping the wet spoon over the page Bobby was trying to translate. 

Sam started getting teary eyed again at the sight of Bobby, at the thought of what he’d almost done.

Bobby watched them file in, handing Elizabeth off to Dean as Sam started to get misty eyed. “Bobby-” Sam got out before the emotions choked the words from him. Bobby rounded the table as Sam bit at his lip and tried to keep himself from crying all over again. “I’m so sorry.” His voice quavered.

“You try it again and I wouldn’t hesitate to put a buck shot in ya’,” Bobby warned.

A few tears spilled down Sam’s cheeks as he cracked a smile, nodding his head before Bobby pulled him in for a brief, but tight, hug.

He pulled back and clapped Sam on the shoulder, “If you boys are staying you can crash on the couch. I still have that roll out mattress in the closet.” And just like that, Sam was forgiven. 

“Don’t know where your angel is going to sleep,” Bobby added hooking his thumb the direction of the hallway where Castiel was looking at the more disorganized display of Bobby’s book collection.

As if summoned, Castiel rounded the corner, open book in hand and without looking up he muttered, “I don’t need to sleep.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he opened his mouth to protest, but Bobby beat him to the punch. “Good, then if you wouldn’t mind translating these.” He patted the stack of books he’d set at the corner of his desk upon the boy’s -and unexpected granddaughter’s- arrival.

Castiel glanced at the stack, then to Bobby before dipping his head in agreement before returning to his reading.

\- -

It was the witching hour and Bobby found his insomnia-riddled-self wandering downstairs for a late night drink. The boys were asleep, Sam stretched out as much as he could on the couch, while Dean slept on the roll-out on the floor an arm’s length away. Elizabeth was asleep in her bassinet between Dean and the bookcase.

Castiel wasn’t behind the desk where Bobby set him up hours ago, but the desk lamp was casting a soft glow over the sleeping baby. 

Bobby paused to marvel at the fact there was more or less a “baby Dean”. He hadn’t known the boys when they were this small, but it wasn’t hard to see the family resemblance. 

Fishing a late night drink from the fridge, Bobby turned around to find Castiel crouched over Elizabeth’s bassinet. He had enough sense not to shout, but his breath caught and he directed his surprise at the angel in a hushed growl, “Your little reappearing act is going to give me a heart attack.” 

Castiel glanced up at Bobby before returning his attention to Elizabeth, “Your heart is strong enough a startling event wouldn’t lead to your demise.” 

“Gee, thanks.” Bobby snapped, coming to stand behind Castiel. The angel was adding another charm to Elizabeth’s growing bracelet. “Problems?” He asked recognizing the stone for what it was. 

Castiel stood and -with absolutely no subtlety- shot a panicked look at the top of Dean’s sleeping head before standing a little straighter, a gesture Bobby was learning meant the angel was uncomfortable. “No. Everything is quite fine.” 

Bobby gave a long-suffering sigh, “Unlike those two knuckleheads I know to read the fine print in the lore.” 

Castiel gave a solemn nod, “Then you know what I’m doing.” 

“I do.” Bobby nodded, “But are you sure this is worth it?” 

Castiel finally turned and looked him in the eye, there was a steel resolve in his bright eyes. “Absolutely.” 

Bobby gave him an approving nod then crouched to inspect the baby’s latest addition, asking in Japanese, “ ** _Blessed by a priestess. That’ll hold what, little over a week?_** ”

“ _ **If she’s never come across it before possibly longer,”.**_ ” Castiel answered without hesitation in the same language, “ _ **I am already working on the next charm.**_ ” 

Bobby nodded and left Castiel to it with a pat on the shoulder. 

Apparently, the brothers weren’t the only ones keeping secrets from each other. 

\- -

The next morning Castiel had two neat stacks of papers. One stack was the translated text and the smaller second stack was obscure shorthand that Bobby seemed over the moon about. 

“I was hopeful for that one as well, but no,” Castiel said as he stood over Bobby’s kitchen table. 

Since Bobby had come down the stairs that morning, Castiel saw to it that they discuss every possible ritual Bobby could think of from ancient cultures. What it turned into was Bobby making a suggestion and Castiel explaining why it wouldn’t work. 

Various plants, flowers, stones, and others -Dean didn’t actually want to know if that had been alive at one point- were laid out across the repurposed kitchen table. Castiel had been using the pockets of his trench coat to keep all the different types of materials he needed to create wards for Elizabeth. There was even a small pile of dirt for good measure. 

“What were her parents doing before?” Bobby demanded. His morning irate always seemed lessened by the tattered to hell ‘kiss the cook’ apron he wore while fixing bacon. 

“The description of the other world’s Sam would indicate he had become powerful enough to ward her without aid. It was part of the regimen Gabriel provided him for becoming worthless to Lucifer as a vessel.” Castiel answered.

“Moche.” Bobby suggested. 

Castiel pursed his lips as he considered it a moment, “Very diligent with the structures and aerial art. Examining their sacrificial rituals could yield something useful.”

Sam’s face lit up with excitement, “Do you know what the Nazca Lines mean?” 

Castiel answered over Dean’s confused “The what lines?” “Before Gabriel disappeared from the Heavenly Host he was sent to deliver two messages, one to the woman who would birth Father in the form of a human, and another message to the father of a Baptist who would befriend the human form of Father.” Castiel’s brows furrowed, “I believe Gabriel also struck the Baptist father mute because of his extensive questioning. At the time Gabriel felt it necessary to get drunk and describe his favorite species to a growing village. They liked him so much they spent the subsequent years creating animal drawings for him to enjoy when he "returned to his home in the sky".” 

Silence followed the explanation, the only sound in the kitchen was the bacon sizzling in the pan. 

“You’re kidding me,” Bobby finally deadpanned. 

Castiel shook his head, “From what I understand, Raphael also took great joy in their renditions of animals.”

“Dude, your brothers are weird,” Dean said, shaking his head in amusement. 

\- - -

The brothers ended up dragging Castiel along for a run into town for supplies and Bobby’s grocery shopping. They were eating all of the old hunter's food; it was the least they could do. 

Sam took Castiel to replenish their dwindling number of first aid supplies, leaving Dean to do the food shopping. Bobby insisted they leave Elizabeth because “if Dean is really gonna claim her then he should get Opa time before they’re on the road again.”

Grabbing a couple packs of ace bandage Sam noticed he lost Castiel at the end of the aisle. The angel was openly staring at a young couple who were holding hands and giggling across the aisle.

“Cas,” Sam hissed, gaining Castiel’s attention, “you’re staring.” 

“Do humans often hold hands to prevent separation when both parties are fully grown and there is no danger present?” he asked, turning to Sam. 

Sam glanced at the couple who were whispering with their heads ducked together looking over the card section. “What? No. Well, those two are a couple. Partners. It’s a way some people show affection.” 

Castiel considered that for a moment before resuming his study of them. “I have never seen you and Dean hold hands and you two are partners. Soulmates even.” 

Sam scrunched his nose in disgust, distaste coloring his voice. “No, Dean and I are partners in that we work together.” Sam gestured to the couple, “That type of hand-holding is more for emotional or sexual partners. Couples who are dating or married hold hands as a socially acceptable way to show affection in public.” 

Castiel gave a nod and he resumed helping to add different sized gauze to the cart. The topic was obviously dropped but Sam was willing to bet cash money none of what he said made much sense to the angel. 

\- -

Meanwhile Dean was regretting his decision to be the one to pick up groceries. His only consolation was at least he got the right kind of bacon. Sam always went for shit like “turkey bacon”, and one memorable time “lamb bacon”. Dean scoffed just thinking about it.

Rounding an aisle he almost ran directly into Sheriff he-can’t-remember-her-first-name Mills. 

She gave his cart a quick once over spotting the diapers, “Babysitting? That a typical adventure in your boys’ line of work?” 

Dean gave her a nervous smile, “Been that way lately.” 

She turned from the row of protein bars to the baby clothes, adding a little hat on top of the train pants and sock monkey he’d already picked out. “It’s going to start getting colder. This will keep them comfortable.” 

“Uh, thanks,” Dean said.

“Don’t mention it,” She said with a smile. "See you around Dean," before disappearing around the corner with her cart.

Dean blinked down at the little bear hat; it had two little brown ears sticking out along the seam. Proof he didn’t just have a massive hallucination. 

The whole interaction felt like a sharp reminder Elizabeth would be better off with an actual family and actual parents instead of someone who was playing house.

\- - -

They opened the door to Bobby’s, each of them with arms full of grocery bags, explaining the merit of ‘making it all in one trip’ to Castiel. 

“It’s less than four meters between the car and house, there is no reason for this-“ he flapped his plastic bag covered arms, “waddle.”

“Now that you’re inside would you be willing to go back out to the car?” Dean challenged.

Castiel gave an exasperated huff, “If there were items still in the car I see no issue in going back out to retrieve them.”

Bobby’s _FBI_ phone started ringing, saving Dean from answering.

Bobby shot them a warning look, as he had since they were children, and barked a not-so-friendly greeting into the phone.

As silently as they could, they set the grocery bags down while Bobby snapped at the person on the other end of the line.

Dean rounded the corner to the living room to greet Elizabeth who gave an excited scream at his appearance. Dean rushed to gather her into his arms and shush her when he heard Bobby growl into the phone, “You’re damn right it’s a baby. Ever worked witness protection? There’s paperwork and ya can’t exactly shove ‘em out on the street now can ya?”

Dean handed Elizabeth her bear which she immediately started tasting. As Dean knew she would. It would keep her quiet until Bobby got off the phone. 

“I suggest you do your job and don’t question me on how I’m doin’ mine,” Bobby growled at the phone before hanging up. He lifted his hat to rub at his forehead, just under his hat. “Dale will have questions about that one,” he muttered.

“Sorry Bobby. Didn’t even think about it,” Dean apologized. 

“Neither did I,” Bobby admitted, “But it does bring up a good point. You can stay the night, but she can’t stay here indefinitely. I have hunters coming and going every week and some of them are still holding a grudge for the whole apocalypse mess.” 

Dean felt only a little guilty at the happiness that warmed his chest at being able to keep Elizabeth with them a while longer. 

\- -

The humans in the room took a research/dinner break of deer steak and baked potatoes, while Castiel declining the offer for food citing he didn’t _need_ to eat. Instead, he set about rearranging all of Elizabeth’s clothes and supplies to fit in the diaper bag.

After the failed witch kidnap attempt the diaper bag had remained in a constant state of disarray. Dean could get a few bottles, a few more formula packets, half a dozen diapers, and a pack of wipes into the bag. He was sure at some point he shoved her racecar blanket in there but he hadn’t used it since. It was too much work to pull everything out when he felt like digging for it.

Castiel packed the diaper bag and utilizing the side pockets it could now easily fit all five bottles, all the formula packets, a dozen diapers, both packs of wipes, her couple of toys, the changing mat, and her racecar blanket. Castiel started adding the things Dean had picked up earlier until he got to the sock monkey. 

“What is this?” He demanded, glaring at it as though it had personally offended him. 

“It’s a toy. A sock monkey,” Sam answered around a bite of meat. 

“It’s-“ Castiel paused, “I don’t like it.” 

“I don’t think anyone actually _likes_ it. It’s a durable toy she can chew on,” Dean explained.

Castiel set it aside, giving it one last glare, before turning back to diaper bag to add the tiny pants and hat.

\- -

Packing up to leave the next morning, Bobby took Castiel aside and handed him a large, worn leather travel bag.

“What is this for?” Castiel asked accepting the bag.

“Pretty sure you’ll be needing this soon enough,” Bobby said gruffly.

Castiel gave Bobby a long look before nodding towards the brothers -who were in turn packing and throwing a dry dish towel at Elizabeth much to her delight- silently asking him not to say a word.

Bobby patted him on the shoulder, a silent agreement. “There are a few books I haven’t gotten around to categorizing in there.” He said aloud, “Figured you could give me a hand with that.”

Castiel nodded, “Of course. I’ll do what I can.”

\- - -

From day one Dean had kept threatening to leave Lizzy with Sam for a morning coffee run but Sam using all of the hot water the night before had Dean following through with the threat.

“Be back in 10!” Dean called herding Castiel out the door. 

The angel had stayed up all night looking over the books Bobby loaned him and he was starting to drive Dean crazy because he was just always there. When they only saw him occasionally Dean could keep a tight lid on his feelings for Castiel. Or at least he hoped it was a tight lid. The angel was still oblivious so Dean figured he was doing ok. 

Fetching coffee wasn’t a date by any stretch of the imagination but Dean wanted to be selfish now and again and have Castiel all to himself.

Dean was tapping his thumb on the steering wheel in time with Motörhead as they drove to the nearest shop, it being too far to walk. 

“You seem immensely more comfortable with her now,” Castiel said over the music. 

Turning the volume down, Dean shook his head with a fond smile, “You aren’t subtle for shit.” 

Castiel was silent a moment, “I know you desire a family of your own-” Dean gave a sound of protest but Castiel continued, “-and don’t understand what you think another provider could give her that you cannot.”

Dean shoved aside the twinge of heartbreak at hearing Castiel voice what he’s been struggling with since realized he didn’t want to give Lizzy up. 

Being with Lisa and Ben had given him a taste of what normal was. But between the depression of losing Sam and the guilt of knowing there were people out there getting hurt, getting killed, because he was sitting on the bench; it never felt right. 

He wanted to be selfish in the worse way because sitting in the Impala with Castiel in the passenger seat, knowing that Sam was at the motel looking after his daughter, it felt right. It felt like where he was supposed to be. 

But a part of Dean knew it wouldn’t be best for Lizzy.

“I want to do right by her,” Dean admitted quietly. 

Castiel frowned at the road stretched out in front of them, “And you believe finding a family of hunters to raise her is the answer? The child that the Righteous Man died to protect?” 

“They’ll be able to give her a home,” Dean said his voice barely carrying above the guitar solo. “She’ll be able to go to school and make friends without having to move every month like Sam and I did growing up. I want her to grow up safe. Normal,” he added as an afterthought.

“Although she is safer with the two humans who have defied all odds to stay alive; _You_ , Dean, are more than capable of protecting her from whatever threat may arise,” Castiel assured him. “From what I’ve gathered of schools, it will not be something that holds her interest. And do you believe her mother hadn’t considered what you raising her child would mean?”

They were going to have to circle back to the school comment, but mentioning Deanna brought Dean up short. “How could she have known? Yeah, our lives were similar but she talked about living in Rufus’ cabin, whatever that is. They had a home base.”

“Elizabeth naturally attracts undesirable attention no matter where she is. As you saw with the witch. The longer she is in one place the more dangerous it becomes for her, moving her around keeps her protected. I believe her mother had no misconception of the manner Elizabeth would be raised.”

The coffee shop outside the library was open. Dean parked in one of the many open spaces and turned to throw an elbow over the backrest to face Castiel. “How do we know that for sure Cas? How do we know Lizzy wouldn’t grow up to resent me?” The ‘like Sammy did with Dad’ almost came out in his admission. 

Castiel turned to face him, his blue eyes bright in the early morning sun. “The call to do the work you’ve been raised to do has little sway over the good man you are that will allow you to raise this child properly.” 

Biting at his lower lip, Dean forced down the swell of emotions the words brought him. He gave a weak laugh to cover the lump in his throat at the very real prospect of _keeping_ Lizzy for good. 

“She’ll have Sam in her life so I can’t fuck up too badly, right?”

Castiel dipped his head in agreement before adding, “And was it not you who reared Sam?”

Dean habitually shook his head at the praise.

As they waited for their coffee, Dean couldn’t stop the smile from taking over his face. He was really going to keep and raise his own kid.


	5. Chapter 5

When the brothers didn't have a case to occupy their minds, they often dissolved into bickering siblings.

“We already know who was closer to being born a woman and it wasn’t me.” Sam sassed as Dean insulted his "girly" hair length, for the hundredth time. “Just think, instead of credit card scams you could have sold eggs.”

“That’s so fucked up.” Dean accused.

“Doesn’t mean you wouldn’t have considered it.” Sam snapped back.

The low murmur of Castiel talking to Elizabeth in the back seat stretched between them.

Dean snapped his fingers and pointed at Sam, “Kind of like how I had to talk you out of going to that sperm bank when we were in Wisconsin back in ’05.”

“First of all, they’re called Fertility Clinics. And second, I was too drunk to walk. What makes you think I would have made it out the motel door?” Sam drawled.

“Sheer stubborn will.” Dean deadpanned.

They lapsed into silence and after a moment Dean realized Castiel had stopped talked to Elizabeth. Dean glanced at him in the rearview mirror to find Castiel watching the road with a distant look in his eyes, “You doin’ alright Cas?”

Castiel leaned forward against the bench seat, “How did you go from arguing about eggs to Sam giving his ejaculation to an institution?”

With an unhelpful bark of laughter from Dean, Sam launched into explaining man's play at God with the use of surrogates, donated sperm and eggs to an angel.

20 minutes later Castiel was well versed in in vitro after his constant string of questions, Sam felt he'd reached a level of uncomfortable he hasn't experienced in years, and Dean’s sides hurt from laughing.

\- - -

Closer to southern Illinois they picked up on a headline, ‘Local Student Bitten and Mauled to Death in Animal Attack’. A quick search found this hadn’t been the only animal attack around the college campus in the past few months. 

“Bet Lizzy is gonna do something that steals the show again,” Dean said as he sat on the motel bed sharpening the blade of a machete.

Sam looked down at Elizabeth who was currently wrestling with his shoelace, untying the long laces with little unpracticed fingers as she attempted to chew on them. “Or she’ll be a siren song to a bloodthirsty monster,” Sam said with disapproval. 

“She has an affiliation for charms and things that are not tangible on this plane of existence.” Castiel informed them from his crossed ankle position on the bed, “She would have no greater sway over a vampire than any other child,” he dismissed, not looking up from the book he’d been reading. 

Dean’s muttered “killjoy” was ignored as he went back to sharpening his blade.

“How do we want to do this?” Sam asked, closing his laptop, “Cas and I take off and you play nanny again?” 

“If Cas is up for it, I was thinking he could play nanny this time,” Dean shrugged. Castiel had been watching him close enough the angel was bound to have picked up a few things. “What do you say Cas? You got a problem hanging out with the rugrat for a few hours?”

Sam’s head jerked to Castiel, expecting a negative reaction to the suggestion only to find Castiel watching Dean with the look that often meant they were about to forget he was in the room. 

“My only objection would be I would not feel comfortable leaving her to come to your aid if you need me,” Castiel replied.

Dean grinned at the angel before turning the expression to Sam and pointing the machete at him, “He’s perfectly fine with it. Suit up so we can hunt us a vampire.”

Sam gave his brother an exasperated look and moved Elizabeth to sit among her soft plastic blocks before grabbing his suit and disappearing into the bathroom.

Dean shook his head wondering where Sam learned to be so fucking modest. He quickly put away the machete and fished an extra phone out of his bag, offering it to Castiel. 

“In case something happens and you need to get ahold of us,” he explained. Castiel accepted the phone and began thumbing through it with comfortable familiarity. “All the numbers to get ahold of us are in there. If we don’t answer right away just keep trying till you get one of us,” Dean continued.

Castiel held up the phone displaying Dean’s current number, “I have no doubts I’ll be able to manage for a few hours.” 

Unconvinced, Dean pulled out his suit and continued, “She’s gonna want a bottle before she goes to sleep. Tear open the little baggie of formula, run the water _warm_ , not hot, and mix it. You’ve seen me do the diaper thing so good luck with that. Remember straps are pulled forward from the back. Don’t put her in the bassinet until after she’s asleep.” Dean turned to find Castiel had moved from the bed to sit with Elizabeth on the blanket he’d laid out on the floor for her. “Got all that Cas?” 

Castiel didn’t look up at him as he handed Elizabeth a green block to chew on, “Bottle. Diaper. Sleep.” he repeated. 

“Call if you can’t figure something out.” Dean said.

“I understand you are worried, but in the time you have taken to tell me all of this I could have located the vampire and eradicated it for you,” Castiel deadpanned.

“You’re not our attack dog, Cas,” Dean muttered. He stripped off his clothes and quickly pulled on his dress pants. The silence that fell over the room had Dean glanced questioningly at Castiel. If Dean had an ounce of shame he would have squirmed under Castiel’s warm gaze as he stood there in unbuttoned dress slacks and an open dress shirt. “What?”

Castiel gave him a small smile before turning back to entertain Elizabeth. Dean quickly knotted his tie almost missing Castiel’s quiet, “Thank you”.

\- -

The visit to the morgue confirmed it was a vampire attack. A bit more chewed on then the brothers were familiar with, but if it was a freshly turned vamp it wasn’t uncommon to find. 

The victim’s roommates were easy to get the name of the bar their friend frequented from. They were more than willing to part with any information they had on their friend if it meant they wouldn’t get jail time for hot boxing the living room in memory of said friend. 

As it turned out it was the same bar another person had disappeared from a couple weeks earlier. The nearest place a vampire could hide unnoticed in that part of town had been an empty tire warehouse a block over. 

Dean parked the Impala a mile away -harder to pinpoint where a couple of bloody guys were coming from or going to if someone couldn’t clearly see both their destination and the car- and they quickly changed out of their suits and into clothes that offered more mobility. Dean tossed his suit in the trunk with a huff as he checked his phone, for the fifth time since they’d parked the car, as Sam buttoned up his flannel. 

“Call him if you’re that worried,” Sam finally said. 

Dean shot him a look as if _Sam_ was the fretting mother hen, “They’re fine. He’s seen me feed her a couple dozen times. Worse case there’s a diaper in need of a change when we get back.” 

Sam recognized Dean’s posturing for what it was. He needed reassurance. “Cas is probably reading one of Bobby’s books while Elizabeth is passed out in a milk coma.” 

The tension eased from Dean’s shoulders. “Right. And if for some reason the vamp goes after Lizzy like the witch did Cas can zap them out of there.” 

Sam blinked in surprise at Dean just offering up what was making him so nervous without prompting. “Yeah, of course. She’s perfectly safe.” He accepted the machete Dean passed him, looping the sheath through his belt, “I’ll stay back next time if it makes you feel better about leaving her?” Sam offered with a shrug.

Dean looked up from the trunk to give Sam a smug smirk, “She’s growing on you too huh?” 

Considering it for a moment, Sam conceded to the fact that she had. It was still weird to wake up and find a baby at the foot of Dean’s bed. But more so it soothed something in Sam to see this softer side of Dean return. A side he hadn’t seen since before he left for school. Aside from that, Sam suspected, it would finally allow a relationship between his brother and Castiel to take root and bloom. If Sam didn’t know for a fact his migraines were caused by Hell-o-Vision trying to break through, he would blame it on how grossed out he was watching someone make lovey eyes at his brother. 

Dean slammed the trunk of the Impala bringing Sam out of his thoughts. “Ready to go kill a vampire, Sammy?”

The warehouse housed a nest of four, five if you counted the one they were in the process of changing. A growing nest explained the sloppy kill. New vampires unfamiliar with the clawing need were easier to track down. 

Clearing out the nest went as smoothly as they could have hoped with no close calls or near misses. 

With their clothes flecked with blood, the brothers returned to the motel just after midnight. 

The lights were off in the small room when they opened the door. The bassinet was sitting empty on top of the kitchenette table. 

Dean forced down the panic as he scrambled for the light. If something else had come for her Lizzy was going to- 

Elizabeth was lying asleep on Castiel’s chest while he lay on his back in the middle of Dean’s bed. 

A powerful feeling of home washed over him when Sam closed the door and moved to stand beside him.

Sam's whisper sounded as confused as Dean felt, “Is he sleeping?” 

“We-“ Dean quietly cleared his throat, “we’re gonna need to start asking for a cot if this becomes a regular thing.”

With a curious hum, Sam moved around his brother, “Jacket. Then you can work on that.”

Dean shrugged out of his bloody jacket and passed it to Sam who disappeared into the bathroom to the sound of running water. 

Dean quietly kicked off his boots and moved around the room. He didn’t know if Castiel was actually sleeping or if he was playing sleep for Elizabeth’s comfort.

Elizabeth was curled into a little ball, knees tucked under her, and Castiel’s tie gripped in her tiny fist as she slept peacefully. Dean figured Castiel couldn’t actually be comfortable lying flat on his back still in the trench coat. He had an arm draped across her tiny back. His chapped lips were parted as he breathed deeply and evenly.

Castiel was actually asleep. On some level, Dean knew he should be worried about this development but it was overshadowed by the sense of _right_. 

Dean wanted to take a picture to keep this seemingly normal, peaceful family moment forever because he knew he could never actually have this. Dean knelt on the bed, gently putting a hand under Elizabeth and lifting her into his arms. Castiel’s fingers flexed at the lack of warmth then settled against his chest where Elizabeth had been laying. 

Dean moved the bassinet to the floor at the foot of the bed and laid her down mimicking the way she slept on Castiel’s chest. He cast another glance at Castiel's sleeping form on his bed debating the best way to wake him up. Or at least scoot him over so Dean could sleep away the exertion of 2 kills. He hated to admit it, but Sam was the quicker draw these days. Dean chalked it up to muscle memory from Sam’s soulless adventures.

Deciding ‘screw it’, Dean took off his flannel and threw it over his open bag; his undershirt quickly followed, then his jeans. He paused at the side of his bed giving Castiel another look-over, doubting again if he should just climb in without waking Castiel.

Sam chose that moment to emerge from the bathroom announcing in a whisper, “I think my jacket is a lost cause.” He took in Dean standing over Castiel’s sleeping form and raised an amused eyebrow, “Are you trying to get him back for watching you sleep all at once?” 

Dean shot him a shut-the-hell-up look. “I’m trying to figure out how to wake him up.” 

Sam laid their sink-washed jackets over the kitchenette chairs before turning to look at Castiel. “Just shove him over.” 

“I’m not so tired I need to share a bed,” Dean protested although that’s exactly what he’d been about to do. 

“We used to share a bed,” Sam shrugged. 

“We were kids,” Dean argued. “And we both used to fit on a queen bed.” 

“You can still,” Sam grinned, “You’re short enough.”

Sam laughed at Dean’s muttered “Bitch” as Dean gave Castiel’s shoulder a gentle nudge. 

Castiel’s hand flexed against his chest then he opened his eyes, blinking sleep blurred eyes at the ceiling before jerking upright and looking around. “Where is Elizabeth?” 

His unexpected and abrupt movement had Sam and Dean flinching in surprise. 

“Whoa there, Cas,” Dean soothed, holding a hand out towards him like a spooked animal.

“Did they take her?” Castiel demanded. 

“She’s asleep in her basket. She’s fine,” Dean assured him. “Who would take her?” 

Castiel moved with grace and speed, moving off the bed to crouch over the bassinet and lift her into his arms. 

“You’re gonna wake her up,” Dean protested. 

Castiel silently walked her to the diaper bag and pulled out the curse box. “I believe I was dreaming,” he finally said as he pulled a charm from the box.

“You were dreaming someone took her?” At Castiel’s nod, Dean continued, “If someone were to bust in here, can’t you just zap someplace safe? Like Bobby’s.” 

Castiel shook his head and worked to add the charm to Elizabeth’s bracelet without waking or setting her down, “I’m unable to _zap_ with her because she cannot enter the plane required for such action.” 

Castiel settled her back into her bassinet once the bracelet clasp was secure. 

“You’re fucking with me,” Dean accused.

Castiel’s brows furrowed as he gave Dean a confused look. “We’ve never-“ Castiel abandoned the argument and turned back to look at Elizabeth, “It is part of a Nephilim’s disassociation with Heaven.”

Redirecting back to why the initial question came up, Dean asked, “Why were you sleeping in the first place?” 

“She has begun to direct her need for grace towards me and occasionally I will require sleep. Which I’d like to continue if we have time.” Castiel ended the revelation with a wide yawn.

The brothers exchanged apprehensive looks, both wanting to ask a plethora of questions. 

“We’re here for at least another 6 hours,” Sam answered. 

Castiel nodded and laid back down on the bed, scooting to one side of the bed to allow room for Dean, and for all intents and purposes putting an end to the impromptu interrogation before it could really begin.

Sam gestured helplessly at the angel while Dean gave a shrug, honestly, he was too tired to argue.

“Just get some sleep,” Dean suggested and slid under the covers. The bed was still warm from where Castiel had been lying. 

\- - -

It wasn’t a week after Castiel started sleeping that he started eating. 

It began with a few cherry tomatoes Dean had nudged to the side of his plate during lunch. 

Castiel had taken it upon himself to entertain Elizabeth while the brothers ate or mapped out their latest case. Stepping into the role of caregiver without batting an eye.

Each time they’d settle into a restaurant for a meal Castiel would order himself a coffee, giving Dean a side look as if searching for approval, but he never drank it. He’d let it get cold or allow Sam or Dean to take it for themselves. 

Dean had taken the abandoned coffee this time, mixed in a sugar and a cream, and was trying to catch the waitress’ eye for the check when Castiel reached across the table and picked up the small tomato from Dean’s plate. He popped it in his mouth without breaking conversation. 

It didn’t register Castiel was _eating_ until he was reaching for the second one. 

“Cas, are you hungry?” Dean asked.

Castiel blinked at the tomato in his fingers as if seeing it for the first time. “No. This will suffice.” 

He answered before popping that one in his mouth, chewing, then reaching for the last one. “We’re not in any hurry, you can get something.” Dean offered. 

Castiel shook his head and ate the last tomato, returning to his conversation with Sam.

\- -

After that, every few days Castiel would pick something off either of the brother’s plates. 

Croutons that Sam dug out of his house cobb. 

A handful of fries from Dean’s burger combo. 

The baby carrots decorating the edge of Sam’s turkey club.

The entire side order of bacon that made Dean feel compelled to stab the angel’s grabby hand with a fork. 

But every time they’d offer to get him his own food he’d decline. 

They were finishing lunch after a mellow day of letting Elizabeth sit and try to crawl around in the grass at a park. (Dean was adamant that even though she would be raised in the life, it didn’t mean she couldn’t have normal moments. Normal like seeing the light of day from somewhere other than the back seat of the Impala like they’d been raised.)

“I think I would like what Sam had,” Castiel said as Dean balled up his napkin and dropped it in his pool of ketchup. 

“Rabbit food,” Dean supplied.

“It was a chicken salad. Plenty of protein,” Sam defended. 

Elizabeth gave a happy grunt and made a reach across the table for Dean. 

Dean accepted the baby pass with a “hello munchkin” as the waiter stopped at their table. 

“You about set?” He asked, topping off Sam’s coffee.

“Actually, this one seems to have found his appetite after all,” Dean said, nodding towards Castiel.

Castiel nodded his head in agreement. 

The waiter gave him a kind smile, “What’ll ya have?” 

“The chicken salad,” Castiel responded without hesitation.

“What kind of dressing?” 

At Castiel’s blank stare the waiter offered, “Ma’ makes our Honey Mustard right here from scratch.” 

“I’ll have that then.” 

The waiter gave them a little salute with his pen and disappeared with the order. 

Sam, as he had been doing since Castiel started traveling with them, started in with the questions. 

Castiel had been watching humans since the beginning of the world, there was actually very little he didn’t know about the events of the past. Modern references still escaped him for the most part, but Dean was silently horrified to learn Sam and Castiel were developing _inside jokes_ with historical events. 

Today Sam’s 101-questions were on the efficiency of sacrifices in ancient cultures. It was disturbing to know more often than not the gods accepted the sacrifice with not so much as a thank you. A sacrifice for rain and the god would provide four days of rain and a swarm of locusts.

The waiter didn’t seem to appreciate the topic either, judging by the unsettled look on his face as he set the salad at the table. 

Dean flashed him a tight smile with an explanatory, “History majors.” 

The waiter raised his eyebrows in a less than reassured gesture before disappearing again. 

Dean hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath waiting for Castiel’s reaction to _willingly_ eating food.

Other than tasting the honey mustard and immediately dumping the rest of the container over the greens and chicken pieces; he ate at a sedated, unhurried pace. 

Overall, it was pretty anti-climactic. 

Seemingly unaffected by what he was actually doing, Castiel picked the conversation back up with Sam about the ancient Carthaginian society and their disguised form of population control. 

Dean caught himself watching with rapt attention as Castiel licked a drop of stray honey mustard off his thumb. The flash of pink tongue against his tan skin had Dean’s mind supplying what else he could be doing with that tongue.

Elizabeth smacking him in the face snapped him out of the daydream he almost slipped into. Elizabeth babbled up at him, tugging at the collar of his shirt so she could determine if it was a suitable taste for chewing on. Dean fished a pacifier from the diaper bag and Elizabeth happily accepted it, tucking herself under his chin. 

Dean glanced back at Castiel hoping the angel hadn’t noticed he’d been staring. He really shouldn’t entertain the thought of chasing Castiel’s coattails as it was. Can’t exactly break up with the angel (not-)father of (not-)your half angel baby if the relationship goes south. 

Dean decided he’d get laid and get it out of his system. Sam and Cas could babysit for a few hours while he scratched this itch. It shouldn’t be too hard to slip the nerds, he thought. He doubted they’d notice if he got up and left the table now. \- - 

Turns out Dean was wrong about being able to slip past the nerds. 

Dean was 99% sure Sam knew what he was up to. Even more so when Dean was grabbing his coat and ready to walk out the door when Sam suggested he take Castiel along. “If Cas is going to stick around it might do him some good to learn a little about hustling pool,” Sam reasoned. 

It felt wrong to tell Castiel exactly why he couldn’t tag along to the bar so that’s how Dean found himself waiting for a beer with Castiel at his elbow. 

“Didn’t have to come ya know,” Dean told him casually. “You can still head back to the motel. I’m sure Sam is keeping Elizabeth up by trying to teach her Spanish though cartoons again.” 

“I’m fine,” Castiel responded as he studied the game currently going on like it held the answers to the universe. “Sam mentioned learning this is part of becoming a well-rounded hunter.” 

Dean conceded to that sound fact. 

Sunday night football meant the pool tables were open and the rowdy groups were cheering sporadically at the screens.

Dean took his time walking Castiel through the basics, pointing out simple shots as they moved around the table. 

He offered the cue ball to Castiel, “Just don’t hit it too hard.” 

Castiel nodded solemnly and lined the ball up as he’d watched Dean do and struck the cue ball. It barely rolled three inches. He glared at Dean who failed to disguise his snicker with a cough. 

Dean grabbed the cue ball and put it back where he started, and with a laugh he said, “Try again.” 

The second shot struck the solid purple ball and rolled smoothly into the corner pocket. Dean lifted an impressed eyebrow, “Mojo or wicked beginner’s luck?” 

“There’s nothing wicked about it,” Castiel answered, moving around the table to take another shot, flawlessly sinking that one as well. Dean crossed his arms and frowned down at the table, watching Castiel bend over the table for his next shot.

“

“How can you not be cheating?” Dean demanded after the ball hit the corner pocket just right to hit the bumper and bounce into the hole. 

“It’s angles and force,” Castiel answered without looking at him as he lined up his next shot. The ball hit the lip of the pocket and rolled out. 

Dean smothered his smile into his beer at Castiel’s glare. 

They went back and forth for a while, Dean so enamored by Castiel’s hidden pool skills he forgot why he wanted to come to the bar in the first place. 

Halfway through their second game, and the third round of drinks with a couple shots of whiskey, Dean had started wanting an unobstructed view of Castiel’s ass as he bent over the pool table. The trench coat and suit jacket had been laid over a chair near their drinks after the first round and the dress slacks he wore were offering teasing glimpses of the muscles hidden underneath. 

Castiel didn’t need to lean over quite so much, but Dean was never one to turn down a free show so he wasn’t going to correct him. 

# 

Catching himself for the ‘nth time that night wanting to press himself against Castiel’s back, Dean shoved his lustful desire down and cast a glance around the room. Taking a long pull from his beer he solidly reaffirmed in his mind he would not be hitting on Castiel tonight when he caught a woman undressing Castiel with her eyes from across the bar.

She was the type Dean would normally go for. Leggy, brunette, a rack he couldn’t possibly hope to fit in the palm of his hand. She was Dean’s typical _wham bam thank you ma’am_. 

And she had eyes for Castiel. 

With that predatory gleam in her eye Dean didn’t have a doubt in his mind she was the kind of woman with a persuasive tongue and pouty lips you couldn’t say no to until she already had you wrapped around her finger. 

Dean didn’t think Cas would stand a chance. 

She was already eye fucking his angel from across the room when it struck him; Castiel would be oblivious to her come-ons. Her obvious show of licking at the end of her straw had zero effect on the angel as he turned back to the game of pool without so much as a second glance. It was kind of awe-inspiring, in a twilight zone kind of way, to watch. A smoking hot little thing trying, what were probably her best moves, and getting nowhere. 

Uninterested as Castiel seemed, it didn’t deter her. 

Dean looked up from sinking the 8 ball to gloat, only to see her straddling the tall chair Castiel’s trench coat was laid over. Watching Castiel’s posture straighten in his discomfort, Dean took pity on him; the poor bastard didn’t know what to do with her attention. 

Figuring it best to save him, Dean put on his most charming smile and slid up next to Castiel, drawing her attention. She gave Dean a once-over before dismissing him with a raised eyebrow, “Sorry darling, he’s gonna have to pass tonight. First night out after leaving a family cult,” he paused for her appropriately sympathetic sound, “we’re starting small with an easy night on the town.” 

She turned away from Dean and flipped her hair over her shoulder smiling up at Castiel, “Oh I don’t mind taking it easy.” 

Dean felt his smile tighten at her forwardness, normally a huge turn on for him, but not when it was directed at Castiel- “Maybe some other time.” 

She leaned against Castiel’s side, her breasts pushing against his arm as she reached up and plucked imaginary dust off his collar, "What’s a little conversation between friends?” She purred.

Dean grit his teeth, the chick wouldn’t take a hint. He caught Castiel’s gaze, nodded his head towards the pool table, “Rack em?” 

Castiel nodded and moved to rerack the balls while Dean slipped off to get another round. 

Watching her lean over the pool table and put her cleavage on display gave Dean an idea. She was a bit slow on the uptake, probably not accustomed to rejection, but he was positive she spoke body language. 

Hiding his smile, Dean returned with two beers. Castiel had returned to their table and the chili fries Dean had insisted he try. With Castiel facing the table, Dean pressed his chest against Castiel’s back and reached around him to set the beer on the table. Castiel, and his lack of personal space/boundaries, turned towards him, their lips practically touching, unknowingly playing right along. 

“Thank you, Dean,” he murmured, accepting the cold beverage. 

Dean gave a low grunt in response, stepping back and glancing at the brunette. Her lips were set in a tight line, her eyes narrowed at Dean. He fought down a smile; yep, she spoke this language loud and clear. 

“I’ll break.” He unnecessarily told Castiel as he gave the angel’s bicep a light squeeze. 

Dean sunk two with the break and smirked up at Castiel. The angel was standing uncomfortably rigid as the small brunette stood next to him, toying with the bottom of his tie. Dean pursed his lips and with a determined ‘two can play at this game’ he used the fact Castiel’s eyes followed him wherever he went to make a show of leaning over the table trying out different angles before deciding on his next shot. He knew the act would go over Castiel’s head, but the brunette would get it. And by her heated glare his direction he could tell she was getting it loud and clear.

Dean’s not-so-accidental miss gave Castiel a valid excuse to move away from the touchy brunette. A surge of possessiveness swept through Dean when Castiel bent to take his shot and the brunette shamelessly ogled his ass. But her staring was far better than touching in Dean’s opinion. And if it meant Dean had to throw the game, turning his plays into perfect set ups for Castiel to keep him playing, Dean was more than willing.

Halfway through the game Dean started complimenting each shot Castiel made, and in turn getting that intense I’m-looking-at-your-soul look from Castiel every time. 

The game finished and Dean had to give credit where credit was due, this chick was stubborn. 

It might have been the beer on an empty stomach or the shots of whiskey he’d been taking at the bar between rounds, but Dean wanted to prove Castiel wasn’t going anywhere with her tonight. 

Dean leaned against Castiel’s back, wanting to whisper his question into Castiel’s ear, but misjudged how close they were and accidentally brushed his lips across the exposed skin of Castiel’s neck. The angel tensed under him as Dean inhaled sharply in surprise. With Castiel’s hair brushing against his cheek and his nose under the angel’s ear, Dean put a hand on the pool table at Castiel’s hip, attempting to bring himself back upright and apologize. 

But Dean rediscovered his resolve when he caught the curvy brunette’s scowl across the brightly lit pool table. 

“Oops,” Dean muttered against the sensitive skin of Castiel’s neck, “do you want another beer?” 

Dean watched under his lashes as Castiel’s gaze moved past the brunette as if she were invisible, and not noticing her growing irate, to look at the untouched beer Dean brought him not 10 minutes ago. 

The angel shook his head and moved to rack the balls for the next game. 

Dean didn’t try to disguise the smug smile as the brunette shot him a glare -that rivaled Sam’s max bitch face- and stomped off.

With a Cheshire grin firmly in place, Dean was more than pleased with himself; he could play this game till the cows came home. He grabbed Castiel’s beer from the table and brought it to him announcing, “We should do this more often.”

“I am enjoying this more than I thought I would,” Castiel agreed. 

“Good.” Dean smiled and set about re-racking the pool balls. It felt amazing to be able to publically lay claim to Castiel like that. Even if the angel didn’t know that’s what was happening, everyone else would and that made Dean’s chest flood with giddy pleasure. 

Dean felt triumphant right up until he spotted the curvy brunette talking with the drunkest group of football fans and gesturing angrily towards their pool table. One of the larger men of their group turned and gave Dean a disgusted sneer. 

Drunk Midwest football fans weren’t the most accepting people. Especially with the game Dean had Castiel unwittingly playing. 

More heads turned their direction when the curvy brunette leaned in over their table, and hissed “gays” so loudly Dean could hear it from across the room. 

“Fuck.” Dean muttered tipping his head back and downing the rest of his beer. He turned and bit back his startled yelp to find Castiel standing far too close. “Time to go,” Dean told him, taking the stick from his hand and tossing it on the table. Castiel’s brows pulled together in confusion and before he could question why, Dean was spinning him around by his shoulders and marching him towards the back door of the bar. He grabbed Castiel’s trench coat as he passed, shoving it at the angel’s chest. 

“I was about to break,” Castiel objected, shrugging on the jacket and pushing open the clearly lit ‘Exit’ door. 

“Get to the alley,” Dean instructed in a low voice in case the “men’s men” decided Castiel and Dean needed to be “ _escorted out_ ”.

They cleared the service entrance ramp when the back door flew open; red and blue clad fans poured out with a shout of “Hey!”

“Shit!” Dean cursed and took off running, Castiel keeping pace alongside him. 

They got down a block, the opposite direction of the Impala, and Dean grabbed Castiel’s arm and pulled him into a narrow alley so they could double back. Dean’s eyes didn’t have time to adjust before he was bodily shoved against the brick wall, a solid body pressing against his chest. 

The fleeting thought of ‘those homophobic bastards are quick’ flashed to mind before Dean registered it was Castiel. 

Castiel shoving him against the brick wall and pressing their lips together in an unpracticed rushed kiss. Dean’s lower lip was briefly pinched between their teeth as Castiel shifted for a better angle.

Dean brought a hand up to fist into Castiel’s trench coat, but if it was to push him away or pull him closer Dean wasn’t sure.

Castiel pulled back, his breath warm against Dean’s parted lips. Their eyes met and even in the dark Castiel’s eyes seemed to glow. “My apologies,” Castiel murmured, stepping back. 

Dean’s grip on his jacket kept him from moving more than a few inches away. “For?” Dean’s question came out a lot more breathless than he intended. 

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Castiel lamented.

Dean scoffed, “I’m not some blushing virgin you stole a kiss from.” 

Castiel looked like he wanted to protest but remained silent. 

“But it was um-” Dean continued, hesitating under the flash of too blue eyes as they stared at him “-good.” Dean finished with what he hoped was an indifferent shrug. 

Some of the tension eased out of Castiel’s stance and he was leaning back in against Dean’s chest, his voice low, questioning, “Oh?” 

Dean fought to not roll his hips against the thigh the angel shifted between his legs. “Yeah.” 

The silence stretched between them as they stared at each, silently hoping the other would make the first move.

Dean’s gaze flashed down to Castiel’s lips before returning to his eyes.

“May I kiss you again?” Castiel asked in a husky voice, his breath warm against Dean’s lips.

“Hell yes,” Dean growled, hanging onto Castiel’s trench coat as he was pushed back against the wall, Castiel reclaiming his lips.

Time slipped away as they stood there trying to push further into one another. The feel of Castiel’s soft hair in his hand as Dean tangled his fingers in the wild locks. The way Dean’s stomach muscles jumped when Castiel’s searching fingers touched the bare skin at his side. The involuntary buck of Dean’s hips when Castiel bit at his lips and the appreciative groan Castiel would give in response. 

A loud crash at the other end of the alley had them breaking apart and panting for air. Distant indistinctive yelling filled the otherwise quiet night.

As the shouting died down Castiel’s gaze was drawn to Dean’s kiss swollen lips. Dean self-consciously licked them causing Castiel to crowd him against the wall again with a hungry growl. 

The reaction had Dean’s already interested dick standing at attention. 

They couldn’t, a traitorous part of Dean’s mind reminded him. With his heart pounding in his ears, Dean pulled his mouth away from Castiel’s and panted out, “We should get back.” 

Castiel’s bright eyes watched him for a long moment before he ran his thumb ran over the sensitive spot just below Dean’s ear, causing an involuntary shiver, before releasing him and moving away with a flat, “Of course.” 

Castiel moving away made Dean feel cold and it went further than just the night air. The response felt too final to Dean. It felt like he was accepting a rejection. Although he kind of was, Dean didn’t want to leave it like that. 

“We can’t break up.” Dean told his retreating back. 

Castiel turned around, his eyes squinting at Dean as if he wasn’t actually seeing him. “I don’t believe we have the minimum requirement for such an occurrence.”

Dean shook his head, “No. I mean this can’t be something we do then just go on about our lives.” Later Dean would blame it on the alcohol even though he wasn’t nearly as drunk as having confessions in an alley would normally warrant. “We can’t do this because when it goes to shit and you hate me you’ll feel like you can’t leave because of Lizzy. I don’t want to hold you down like that. You deserve better. Lizzy deserves better.”

“What about what you want?” Castiel asked coming to stand in front of Dean, so close their visible breaths mingled in the night air. 

“I want this,” Dean confessed, “With everything that I am I want this but I don’t know what I’d do when you decide you had enough and move on.” 

Castiel watched him for a long moment, "You're a fool.” Castiel finally told him.

Dean closed his eyes and knocked his head back against the brick wall, a short hysterical laugh escaped from his throat. He mentally braced himself; anything Cas would tell him next would cut at him, but he would bear it for the sake of keeping everyone in his makeshift little family together.

A warm hand cupped his jaw and Dean opened his eyes to see those intense blue eyes boring into him. “You’re a fool if you think I could ever have you, then throw you away.”

Dean wanted to protest that everyone always did, but the brush of Castiel’s lips against his own silenced the words before they had a chance to form on his tongue. It convinced him, just a little, that maybe this would be different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _fucking finally!!!_


	6. Chapter 6

Because they never knew when Castiel would go down for the count, and because motel rooms with more than two beds were hard to come by, it was an unspoken rule that Castiel would sleep in Dean’s bed. 

Those nights more often than not, Dean would wake up to Castiel snuggled against his side, an arm thrown over his shoulder, and Castiel’s leg thrown over his. 

The first time Dean had all but jumped out of the bed, showered and fetched coffee by the time Elizabeth woke up. He metaphorically held his breath for Sam to wake up and just _know_. So caught up in his panic it took him a long while to realize he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept through the night like that. 

As the days went on they continued to share a bed. And each morning Dean grew more anxious as he waited for Sam to say something. To throw out a teasing jab about how Castiel was obviously a guy, or about the cuddling- Dean entertained the idea his brother was oblivious.

Dean didn’t want to analyze it too closely because he’d become used to Castiel in his bed. Easing into the closeness so naturally that Castiel leaving and returning to bed only woke him enough to pull him close before falling back asleep. It soothed something in him to wake up with Castiel's dark curls under his chin and the smell of his hair. And when Castiel would start to have nightmares Dean would rake his fingers through Castiel’s hair until he fell back into a peaceful sleep. He’d often falling asleep with his fingers buried in Castiel's hair as he pet the soft locks to chase away the dreams. 

Two weeks had passed and although Sam being oblivious was highly unlikely, Dean couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t brought it up yet. It was weird, right? Your older brother suddenly, and without warning, getting all touchy-feely with a guy? 

A guy angel.

A guy angel that Dean hadn’t realized shouldn’t be needing to sleep _that much_ in the first place. 

\- -

One particularly lazy morning Dean decided to broach the sleeping subject with Castiel. 

Sam was out running -because his new lease on life told him to live it to the fullest- and Elizabeth was being her cute little self and doing her morning impression of an octopus; snuggling into Dean’s chest and breathing her soft baby breaths against his neck while he got her bottle ready. 

Castiel was sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, sipping lukewarm coffee. It had been hot, at one point, but on the best days it took a good 15 minutes for him to be upright and coherent enough to accept it. Castiel told them numerous times waking up wasn’t his favorite part of sleeping. 

“Think Elizabeth takes after you with the clingy, take forever wake up thing.” Dean commented mixing the formula into the warm water one handed. 

Castiel’s half-lidded gaze blinked at Dean, “It’s a celestial trait then.” He deadpanned, taking another long drink of his over-sugared coffee. 

Going for casual Dean offered Elizabeth her bottle and asked, “So when will she stop draining you so much that you need to sleep?” 

The sudden tension in the room had Dean watching Castiel who was far too focused on the coffee in his hands. “Cas?” 

“She wouldn’t.” Castiel muttered.

“What?” Dean asked, thinking he must have misheard him.

“My grace is a form of nourishment vital to Nephilim growth.” Dean nodded along. Castiel had told them that a time or two, then he continued, “She wouldn’t stop until I’m left with the barest connection to heaven.” 

“So once she’s got what she needs you’ll go back to be mojo-ed up?” Dean asked hopefully.

Castiel tensed in discomfort at his next admission, “No.” 

“So you’re going human.” It wasn’t a question. At Castiel’s silence, Dean exploded, “Cas why didn’t you say something?! We could have figured something out other than for her to turn you human! You’re fighting a war in Heaven for crying out loud!” 

Castiel shook his head, “With our last campaign we pushed Raphael’s forces back and obtained a means to persuade him to accept the,” he paused in search for the right words, “unscripted changes. Creation is no longer in threat of a second apocalypse.” 

Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times, _what?_ “You won an Angel War and weren’t even going to bring it up?” Dean demanded.

“It was not of import.” Castiel dismissed.

“You won a war. A celestial war.” Dean said with amazement, “You should have been out celebrating, V-Day Moscow style.” Castiel gave a long suffering sigh as Dean’s turn of phrase escaped him, but Dean powered on, “And you going human, that not important enough to mention either?” 

“Losing my grace is something I would gladly give as a way to ensure her, and your, protection.” Castiel said with conviction. 

“How? How does going human protect her?” Dean pleaded. Elizabeth meant the world to him, but he would never have asked Castiel to give up so much. 

As Dean was lost in thought Castiel stood and approached him. He set his coffee on the kitchen counter and leaned in close. 

Dean was brought out of his musings when the –apparently almost former- angel pressed against his side, he was warm and smelled like a sleep musk mix of both of them. 

Castiel brushed his knuckles down Elizabeth’s soft hair. Her bright green eyes fixed on him as she suckled at her bottle. “Some Nephilim, rare Nephilim, transform angel grace to fit their own needs. By allowing her to siphon my grace away she will eventually no longer need the charms to ward her because it will come naturally to her. She is an abomination in the eyes of Heaven but you have taken her in as your own and have allowed her to flourish. The grace I’ve allowed her to take, and the love you freely bestowed upon this child have made her the healthiest, and most pure-hearted Nephilim, I’ve ever encountered.”

“I’m not going to leave her on the side of the road Cas.” Dean countered in a hushed voice, shying away from the praise. 

“Anyone else would have killed her at birth because she is a monster.” Castiel seemed to process what he said before amending, “Or most Nephilim grow up to be monsters.” Castiel slowly pet down Elizabeth’s soft baby hair and leaned heavily against Dean’s side. 

“Is that your angel programming talking or is that what you think?” Dean whispered. 

Castiel ran his knuckles down her little round cheeks, “I think she’s perfect.” 

They stood there in silence watching Elizabeth’s gaze move between the two of them in sleepy slow blinks. 

“Dean.” Castiel murmured.

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Even if my advances are never acted upon, will you allow me to stay with you? Stay with you and Sam and Elizabeth?” He asked, his voice a quiet timbre.

Dean hadn’t entertained the thought of asking Castiel to stay because he knew he would, regardless if it was something Castiel desired himself. They’d shared only a handful of kisses since the first one and Dean still refused to believe Castiel wouldn’t grow to hate him if they took it further. He couldn’t force Castiel to hang around, but if it was something he wanted, Dean would fully support that. 

Dean’s own little family. Sure it wasn’t traditional by any sense of the word and they would probably always live motel to motel with a couple weeks of crashing in Bobby’s guest room every few months, but Dean didn’t care. He’d have Sammy and Lizzy and Cas close. The sense of _right_ filled his chest with warmth and made the back of his eyes sting. 

"Yeah," Dean cleared his throat when his response came out in a low rasp, "Yeah, I'd like that." 

Castiel leaned in and pressed his lips to the underside of Dean’s jaw in a chaste kiss. He pulled away with a sleepy smile and trailed his fingers across Dean’s arm before gathering his coffee and settling in at the kitchen table to go over the books Bobby loaned him. 

\- -

Sam’s return brought up something Dean hadn’t thought of. 

“You’ve been going human this whole time and how many times have you reinforcing the wall Death put up?” Sam asked, his puppy eyes in fully affect not hindered by his sweat soaked hair sticking to his forehead. “How much of your dwindling grace have you wasted on me?” Sam asked edging on frantic. 

“I’ve been preserving my grace for occasions such as that.” Castiel informed him calmly.

“ _Preserving grace_? What does that even mean!?” Sam implored. 

“This isn’t the first time I’ve gone human.” Castiel reminded them. “Although it is the first time I’m alone in this vessel. Sleeping and eating are replacing what my grace would do to otherwise sustain this body. My body.” 

“So Jimmy is gone?” Dean asked watching Sam work himself back up over the questions he still had. 

“Yes,” Castiel nodded, voice low as he answered Dean, “he has been for some time now.” 

Sam ran a tired hand down his face, “Cas, what happens when you run out of grace and all that hell comes rushing back?” 

A small smile appeared on Castiel’s face, it looked so out of place for the seriousness of the topic it had Dean’s heart jumping in his throat. “Death put all of your hell damaged soul behind a wall knowing he couldn’t dedicate the time to help your soul heal naturally. As I’ve said before Sam, your soul is remarkably resilient. I’ve only been mended what I know wouldn’t heal with time.” 

“So the headaches have been what? The parts that aren’t healing naturally?” Sam asked. 

Castiel cocked his head to the side regarding the question a moment. “In a manner of speaking yes. Have you noticed there is no need for me to address your headaches when you meditate?” 

Sam blinked at him in surprise and nodded his head. 

“Your memories overlap with what your soul experienced in Hell,” Castiel explained, “Because your mind wasn’t with your soul the conflict manifest as a physical pain. You experienced similar pain when you had visions of Azazel’s activities, the reasons are mildly different, but it was still a conflict of the mind and soul.” 

Silence filled the room at the gravity of the news. Sam would eventually be able to handle the torment his soul when through in Hell. 

Sam buried his face in his hands and gave an ironic laugh at the whole thing. Castiel really had planned for everything. Sam finally sat back with a tired sigh and caught Dean’s questioning look. “What?” 

“Meditation?” Dean teased, “Could you be more of a girl?” 

He could tell Dean was secretly as relieved as he was to learn Hell wouldn’t destroy him if Castiel could no longer lend a healing hand. “Still not the one with a baby attached to my hip.” Sam countered. 

\- - -

Their next case came to them a few hours later. A 14-year-old kid who lived in a “local haunted house” was in a coma and the uncle who knew something about something had called Bobby. It set the Impala hauling-ass West to arrive at a motel in the middle of the night and catch a few hours of sleep before getting up to meet the distraught uncle. 

Dressed in his suit, Dean grabbed his jacket and double checked his badges before awkwardly standing near the door Castiel held open while Sam let Elizabeth chew on his knuckle, and her hand, intermittently. 

“You’ve got my number.” Dean asked. 

“Yep.” Sam replied not looking up.

“She had a bottle when she woke up so she should get another one about 10:00.”

Sam gave a hum of acknowledgment.

“She’ll nap after that, but don’t let her sleep too long or we’re never going to get her to go to sleep tonight.” Dean continued.

“Got it.” Sam said over Elizabeth’s happy baby giggle.

“And she should get some fresh air sometime today.” Dean announced.

Sam finally looked up at him, “Would you rather stay here?”

Dean shifted his weight from foot to foot and considered it.

Sam rolled his eyes and didn’t know why he was surprised that Dean would rather coo over Elizabeth than hunt a ghost, “Get out of here and go burn something.” Sam demanded.

“Dean, the man is going to think we’re ignoring him and in turn will tell Bobby.” Castiel said from the door. 

With the threat of an irate Bobby bearing down on them, Dean started for the door, pointed a finger at Sam, “Let us know when you head out for lunch. We’ll meet up.”

The audible sigh and “Yes Mom” followed Dean out the door.

As the house came into view, Dean gave a low whistle at the sheer size of it. 

It had an immaculately kept yard, blooming flowers along the walkway and around the front porch, a basketball hoop attached to the stand alone three car garage that was modeled after the old style house. 

Dean killed the engine and leaned against the steering wheel to staring at the house with a perplexed look. “Huh,” he finally says in mild disbelief.

Castiel turned to look at him with his door open, “Something the matter?” 

With a shake of his head, Dean straightened up and gestured to the house, “Didn’t expect the house to be so nice, ya know?” 

Castiel leaned forward and looked up at the house through the windshield, “Is that uncommon?” 

“Hell yeah.” Dean barked, “You’re getting spoiled because the houses we normally work you have to worry about falling through the floor.” He explained as he watched what he assumed to be their contact come out to stand on the front porch. A dark skinned man who looked to be about Bobby’s age with a little more weight around the middle than their old crusty bookworm. 

The man introduced himself as Uncle Tony with a friendly smile before apologizing for preferring to stay on the civilian side of things. 

As Tony showed them around Dean realized he’d spoke too soon about the house. It was nice on the outside, clean and fresh smelling on the inside, but there was no way the structure was up to code. 

The floor boards gave an ominous groan as Tony showed them the staircase his nephew had been found unconscious on. 

“The cops are calling it an accident only because they didn’t know what else to call it. Colby was home alone. I’ll help as much as he can, but guys-” Tony shook his head and gave a shrug. 

“That’s what we’re here for,” Dean assured him before getting down to business, “What can you tell us about the house?”

Dean swept the house with for E.M.F. while Tony and Castiel followed a few steps behind as Tony them what he knew of the house's history. 

A rich German family built it in the early 1800s. Two stories, six bedroom house. A sizable living room, a library turned den, an attic only big enough for some winter blankets and minor storage. The family owned a sizable farm with crops they were able to turn for quite a profit each year because they were so close to the, then nearby, train station. 

Tony didn’t have much to go on other than he thought the original owners’ last name was “Yewler”. 

The EMF screamed near the stairs where they’d found the kid, but the rest of the house was silent. 

It was interesting, but wasn’t enough to go on which meant they would need to do some leg work to find out a name that went along with the violent ghost.

\- -

The kid in the coma is just that, a kid. 14-year-old Colby was bruised, several broken bones, and dark discoloration from internal bleeding. 

He looked much younger than his 14 years lying against such white sheets attached to various tubes and wires. 

Castiel brushed against Dean’s side as he moved around the hunter and further into the hospital room. It took Dean a moment to realize the angel was striding forward with purpose. He was going to heal the kid. 

The doctor they were here to speak with could walk in at any moment. If they caught Castiel throwing his mojo around, well, Dean imagined it couldn't end well.

Dean scrambled for Castiel’s arm, digging his fingers into Castiel’s bicep and hissing, “Wait, wait!” Dean tried to plant his feet, but the waxed tile offered no traction and Castiel drug him half a step before seeming to come back to his senses. Castiel turned towards Dean, his bright eyes concerned, pleading. 

“Just wait.” Dean hissed, releasing Castiel’s arm with a pat. 

A knock came at the door and they turned towards the doctor, “I take it you’re the private detectives Colby’s uncle said would be stopping by?” 

Dean straightened and offered her his hand, “The very same.”

She took his hand and gave him a firm handshake, “Good. Glad to hear it. I’m Dr. Rice.” She offered her hand to Castiel who returned it. 

“Where are his parents?” Dean asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards the empty bedside, “We’d like to ask them a few questions as well.” It was a bald-faced lie. Dean wanted to know they were as far away from them as possible because Tony had asked they not talk to his sister and brother-in-law because they were a “strong Christian couple that might not react too kindly to a couple ghost hunters”.

“I sent them home for a few hours of sleep and a solid meal.” Dr. Rice said with a gleam in her eye, daring them to question her, “They’ve been here since he was admitted four days ago.”

Dean nodded and made a fake note in his notepad, “And if you’re glad we’re here then you don’t believe this was an accident.” Dean didn’t phrase it as a question. There was no need.

Dr. Rice shook her head and put her hands into her white coat pockets, “Lord no. There is no possible way he sustained any of those injuries by falling down a flight of stairs. The cops searched, but didn’t find any evidence anyone else was in the house. I’m happy his family hired you to look into this. The boy is a fighter, but he's not in the clear yet.”

Castiel took a step back towards the unconscious boy and Dean cleared his throat shooting Castiel a pointed "stop it" look before turning back to the doctor. Castiel pursed his lips in silent frustration and turned his attention back to the doctor as well. 

“Do you believe he will make a full recovery?” Castiel asked. 

Dean tried to keep his compassionate and understanding face in place on but knew Castiel was fishing. 

Dr. Rice gave a sigh, “My unprofessional opinion, I believe so. He is hemophiliac, but we’re taking all precautions to monitor the slower internal bleeding. He’s on oxygen to address the punctured lung. The breaks should heal fine with the amount of bed rest he is in for. But the head trauma could be extensive and it’s what I’m most concerned about.” 

As she listed his injuries a confused frown settled over Dean’s face, doctor-patient confidentiality be damned with this one apparently. As if reading his mind, Dr. Rice pointed a manicured nail in his face, “I am only telling you all this because I believe the more information you have the more likely you are to catch the son of a bitch who did this. A _child_ was beaten, almost to death, and this monster needs to be brought to justice.” 

Dean nodded silently and made note of all the injuries.

“The physical injuries will be easily overcome, it’s his head trauma that is worrisome.” Castiel informed Dean in a quiet voice.

Dr. Rice looked affronted, “And what brought you to that conclusion?” She demanded.

Dean made a mental note to work on what Castiel considered a whisper. “Ever the optimist this one. He’s just saying once the kid wakes up he’s got a long road of recovery ahead of him.” 

Dr. Rice seemed to be appeased but still confused. 

“Ever seen anything like this before?” Dean asked. “Somewhere we can begin to sink our teeth into?” 

She paused and stopped herself from answering before deciding on, “Not quite like this, no.” 

“But similar?” Dean pressed. 

“It was one of the first patients I had when I started practicing in town.” She dismissed. 

Needling at her pride, Dean nodded in agreement, “Time will do that to memories.” 

She unknowingly took the bait and stood a little straighter, “Hard to forget because it almost made me quit on the spot. A father beat his poor boy to death. It was gruesome. We didn’t have the modern medicine we do now and that poor boy didn’t make it through the night. The story caused quite the controversy in town because the father just didn’t seem the type. He was incredibly broke up about his son’s death but still pleaded guilty. No plea for insanity or anything. Made headlines in all the local papers.” She informed them. 

Castiel made another aborted move towards the bed, catching himself before Dean had to.

Dean flipped his notebook closed with a snap, “Well I think that about wraps it up here. Thank you, Doctor Rice.”

She gave them a nod and they followed her out of the room, Dean hissed a quiet “wait” at Castiel again and tugging at his sleeve to get him to move forward.

“Oh, before you take off,” Dean said to the doctor, “do you mind pointing me the direction of some joe? I could use the caffeine.” 

Dr. Rice nodded, glancing at Castiel as he tried for casual and leaned against the wall beside the door to the room, she motioned for Dean to follow as she turned down the hall. 

Dean rounded on Castiel in a low voice, “Go for the head trauma and internal bleeding, that might not stop on its own if he’s hemophiliac. The lung is gonna be a judgment call on your part.” Castiel nodded, his jaw clenching in determination. “It’s gonna suck, but the kid can heal from broken bones and try not to touch the bruising. They’ll notice that immediately.”

With orders, and a mission, Castiel nodded and slipped back into the room to work what little mojo he had while Dean distracted the doctor. 

\- -

Once Colby was healed to Castiel's satisfaction, their next stop was the County records.

It wasn’t hard to find the filicide story the doctor had mentioned. 30 years ago James Struble was murdered by his father, Mark Struble. Who, with just their luck, had died in prison less than 6 months ago. 

The article brought up several times “the remorse Mark felt at killing his son” claiming he often wept openly throughout the short trial. He had the option to plea for insanity, claiming something like the devil had taken over his body, but he didn’t take it. To the casual onlooker, it would seem like the guy was an unstable psycho. But to Dean, it painted a picture of a grieving dad who killed his son while ghost possessed. 

A quick online search showed James’ mother was still alive and the owner of a local hardware store. 

Their next search was for the family that built the house. 

“ _Yewler Family_ “ provided 0 search results. 

“Great. Nothing.” Dean sighed 

“Why did you spell it incorrectly?” Castiel asked from the chair next to him. 

“I didn’t. Tony said the family name was Yewler.” 

“Try E-U-L-E-R.” Castiel suggested leaning in closer. “It’s pronounced Oi-ler.” 

Humoring him, Dean typed in the name. ‘ _Euler_ ’ gave them a couple random hits and one archived item from 1858.

Raising surprised eyebrows at the flashing cursor, Dean clicked the archived result, “How’d you know?” 

“If I’ve learned anything from my extended period on Earth, it's humans have patterns of varying degrees of miscommunication." Dean huffed a surprised laugh, "Been hanging out with Sam too much." Ignoring him, Castiel continued, "The further south we seem to get, the worse the enunciation becomes. If the homestead owners were of German heritage the surname ‘Yewler’ is most likely a mispronunciation of the name ‘Euler’.” 

The link detailed the owner, Alphonso Euler, ran a brothel out of his house and was beat to death in the foyer of his own home by a business partner.

Speculation was Alphonso modified the accounting logs to hide his stealing of a larger share. The partner had been last seen fleeing the house but was never found by authorities. 

The article mentioned Alphonso’s final resting place would be in the family graveyard. 

With a stupid grin in place, Dean patted Castiel on the back, and in his best pirate accent, “We have our heading Mr. Gibbs.”

Castiel gave him a brief glance before returning to stacking the papers Dean had printed, "If that is the name on my false documentation I would like to request it be changed.”

Dean gave an exasperated huff and handed him the few papers that were just out of reach, “Come on, let’s burn some daylight and find Sam.”

\- - -

Even if Dean hadn’t suggested getting out of the motel, Sam would have brought Elizabeth to the park anyway. Something about having Elizabeth around gave them more moments to do nothing more than take it all in. And Sam was oddly grateful for it. Even though this was the fifth time Elizabeth made an attempt at eating a handful of grass; Sam was tempted to just _let her_ so she might understand what he meant when he said “icky” as opposed to continuing to repeat himself. 

“Niece?” A woman asks laying a blanket down next to him. She had a little boy no older than Elizabeth perched on her hip. 

Sam glanced back down at Elizabeth who was once again trying to eat a fist full of grass. “That obvious?” Sam asked gently prying her fingers open and handing her a block. 

“Only because I’m a nurse at a pediatrician office, I can spot the difference.” She said with a kind smile. 

Sam found it odd that a total stranger would choose to sit next to another complete stranger but when the dark haired little boy crawled towards Elizabeth, Sam understood there was a comradery of sorts between people with children close in age. 

The woman warned her little boy to play nice as he started investigating the blocks Elizabeth had been chewing on. Elizabeth offered him the one she had in her mouth and he accepted it and started mouthing the slobbered plastic himself.

Seeing that the children were getting along, the woman took it as an invitation to start up a conversation with Sam. It was a welcome distraction from the circular reading his latest lore book was turning out to be. The woman’s name is Alison and her little boy’s name is Richie. 

She commented several times what a good baby Elizabeth was, although quiet for her age. 

Throughout the conversation, Alison pulled out a container of baby puffs from her bag and offered one to Richie, who took it between little fingers like they were tweezer.

Sam noticed Elizabeth watching the exchange with wide eyes. When the lid snaps back on the snack, Elizabeth grunted at Alison, causing the woman to give her a surprised look that quickly morphed into a fond smile. “May she have a puff?” she asked. 

San hesitated because solid food wasn't something they'd tried yet. Dean had said she wasn't ready, and Sam hadn't looked into when solids should be introduced.... “She’s only ever had a bottle.” 

A concerned look filters across the nurse's face, “She’s about 9 months or so?” Sam didn’t correct her. “She should have at least started solid foods by now. Baby mush at least.” Alison offered the puff to Elizabeth who abandoned the block to grab the woman’s hand and bring to her mouth. Trading baby slobber for the puff. 

“Huh.” Sam mused aloud as Elizabeth gave a high squeal of delight and looked expectantly up at Alison. 

“Here.” Alison offered the half full container of baby finger food to Sam. “She seems to like them and I have another pack in the bag.” 

Feeling vastly out of his element Sam thanked her.

Sam offered Elizabeth another puff and in her excitement she bit Sam’s finger in the process. A few more pieces and Elizabeth grew bored of the food -something Sam attributed to Castiel’s genetic influence- and went back to her blocks. As she began the ‘investigate-with-mouth’ phase of picking anything up, without warning Richie reached over and smacked her in the head with the block he had been waving around. 

Before either child could react Alison gasped and took the block from her son -much to his screaming displeasure- while repeating “No” in sign language and aloud.

Sam held his breath as Elizabeth sat stunned for a moment before starting to cry. Loudly. He scrambled to his knees and scooped the crying baby into his arms, standing with her so he could start the familiar sway he’d seen Dean do almost every day they’d had her. 

Elizabeth sat rigid in his arms as she cried, her face turning red from screaming only highlighted the scratch on the side of her forehead that was sluggishly bleeding. 

Oh man, Dean was going to kill him. 

As if summoned by thought, Sam heard a call of “Sammy!” behind him. Turning, Sam noticed Dean trotting past the playground towards them a frown firmly in place, Castiel behind him at a more leisured pace. 

“Daddy to the rescue.” Sam assured Elizabeth as he tried to soothingly rub her back.

“The hell Sammy? What happened?” Was Dean’s frantic greeting. 

“Just a little misunderstanding.” Sam replied trying to calm his brother down. They were _babies_ and accidents were bound to happen. Elizabeth was fine, if not a bit upset. There was no need for Dean to get all pissed off about it on her behalf. It’s not like he could fight a child.

Through her unhappy crying, Elizabeth reached for Dean. Sam was fun play time and reading and shares block, but Dean was comfort and bottle and snuggles. Elizabeth head-butted Dean’s chin as she tucked herself neatly against his chest and screamed louder. 

“I am so sorry.” Alison apologized digging through her diaper bag, producing a little first aid kit. “I thought he was passed this hitting thing.” 

Sam doubted a 9-month-old could be passed anything, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He accepted and opened the first aid kit while Dean ran a hand down Elizabeth’s back and rocked her. She started to hiccup as her sobs winded down. Sam ripped open a sterilizing wipe and as gently as he could, and dabbed the blood off Elizabeth’s forehead. Kneeling near them, Alison had retrieved a wipe from her bag and was wiping Richie’s hand, he must have got her pretty good, Sam mused.

“Whoa,” Sam muttered staring down at Elizabeth’s unblemished baby smooth skin.

Nephilim healing ability was nothing to sneeze at apparently. 

Dean shot him a questioning look over Elizabeth’s head. 

“Angel baby.” Sam answered ripping open a Band-Aid and placing it over where the cut should have been. No reason to draw attention to the fact she didn’t have a cut when she had obviously been _bleeding_.

“I am so sorry,” Alison said again accepting the return of her kit. She gave Dean a sincere and apologetic smile, “And to have daddy witness that when they were getting along so famously just moments before.”

Castiel stepped beside Dean and ran a hand over the back of Elizabeth’s head, “Teething causes mood swings when they don’t know how else to handle the pain. It wasn’t done maliciously.” He assured her. 

“Not maliciously my ass.” Dean grumbled too quiet to be heard over Elizabeth’s huffing cries. 

Sam caught the flicker of confusion pass over Alison’s face as Castiel stepped into the conversation giving him a hesitant smile. 

Yeah, three men and a baby in a park didn’t scream _weird_ at all, Sam thought dryly. Especially when two of those men were wearing business suits. 

“Alison, this is my brother Dean,” And with little-brother-devious-joy Sam had learned years ago to not let show on his face, he continued, “And his partner, Cas.” 

Alison’s smile grew wider so she must have missed the glare Dean shot Sam over Elizabeth’s head. “I know this is very forward of me, but you won the jackpot of in vitro.” 

Dean blinked at her in confusion, “The what?” 

“I work in pediatrics and never have I seen a baby look more like both the fathers than this little one.” She explained. 

“Um thank you.” Dean offered, taking a step back, unintentionally right into the immovable wall of Castiel’s side.

“We had a very supportive family,” Castiel said earnestly, “His sister donated an egg and we used my sperm for the process.” 

Sam and Dean were too busy gaping at him to notice Alison beaming at his story, even getting a little misty eyed. “That’s wonderful. I wish more families were so understanding and giving when same-sex couples decide to have children.” 

Trying to keep up with the conversation Dean plastered on a fake grin, “Yeah, she’s our little angel.” 

Alison smiled again. “Well, I wouldn’t keep you. I imagine you have the day planned.” 

Castiel nodded and quickly gathered the blocks on the ground shoving them into the diaper bag Sam was picking up. 

With another nod, Castiel took Dean’s hand and led him away, Sam trailing after them. 

Once they crossed the street Dean barked a laugh, “You lied through your teeth!” 

Although Sam was blown away by Castiel’s ability to lie, he was more impressed Dean was able to keep it bottled up long enough to get out of ear shot. 

“It seemed important to her,” Castiel explained. “And spinning a story with personal insight allowed us to leave quicker.” 

Sam noticed Dean hesitantly removing his hand from Castiel’s once they were around the corner. Not for the first time Sam wondered how oblivious Dean thought he was. The two of them already slept together like a pile of kittens.

“You got someplace you gotta be?” Dean teased Castiel.

“No,” Castiel said briefly balling the hand Dean had held into a fist, before shoving both hands into the pockets of his trench coat in a very human gesture, “but I would like lunch. Three blocks down there was a sign for homemade chicken noodle soup. I’d like to try it.”

Dean grinned back at Sam, “Man after my own heart.” He informed him with a laugh.

‘And you’re the only idiot that can’t see it’ Sam thought with a long-suffering sigh.

\- - -

After lunch, a quick call to Tony told them where they might find headstones on the property. And after a short tour of the grounds proved Tony didn’t know for shit what he was talking about. 

“The family grave yard might have the neighbor’s house built over it for as bad as this game of telephone is going.” Dean griped as they widened their perimeter circle for the second time. 

Castiel chose to ignore the turn of phrase. “What will you do if you cannot put this spirit to rest?”

“ _We_ ,” Den emphasized, “would perform a couple of purification rituals and ward the shit out of the house. Cross our fingers and hope not having a place to haunt gives his spirit no reason to hang on.”

“Or it further angers the spirit.” Castiel pointed out. 

“Ever the optimist.” Dean muttered.

“I’m only pointing out the flaws in your plan.” Castiel defended.

“I don’t know Cas.” Dean gave a sigh and scratched the back of his ear with his flashlight, “We’ll just hope we find the grave and don’t have to worry about Plan B.” 

Castiel didn’t seem pacified at the answer so Dean turned back to walking through the brush. 

A few feet further, Dean moved aside branches revealing to two neat rows of short tomb stones lying in the middle of an overgrown circle of trees. “See, plan A is working out perfectly.” Dean grinned.

Alphonso Euler’s headstone was a simple, faded slab of stone, with his name being slowly eroding flat by the elements. 

Dropping the duffel to the ground, Dean handed Castiel a shovel.

“I’ll let you know if the wall is about to collapse.” Dean told him as they started digging.

They only had a minor issue with a caved-in wall as they dug, and the affronted look Castiel shot Dean as he shook the dirt out of his sock had Dean laughing so hard he started wheezing. 

Another foot or so down they found the pine box, quickly salted, and set fire to the bones.

After the fire had died down and they recovered the box with Earth, Castiel asked, “Now what?”

“Now we check the house.” Dean answered shouldering the duffle. 

“Do you doubt setting the bones on fire worked?” Castiel asked picking up his shovel. 

Dean eyed the angel in his suit and tie, trench coat a little worse for wear, and a smear of dirt across his cheek. Castiel wore the hunting look well. “We know this thing killed one kid and put another in the hospital. Nothing wrong with a little insurance.” 

They exchanged the shovels for shot guns and rock salt shells at the car. The house didn’t look any more ominous as the moon rose than it did at high noon. The door to the house was unlocked, perks of a small town, but before Dean could flip on the E.M.F. Castiel grabbed Dean’s arm and hissed, “There is something here.”

“Well, fuck.” Dean cursed listening to the EMF scream one high pitch warble before he shut it off and shoved it in his pocket and raised his gun, “We burned the bones so it has to be something else holding him here.”

“The story told of another, a business partner who went missing.” Castiel reminded him, mimicking his raised gun. 

Dean glanced at Castiel, his shoulder’s tense and his grip on the gun was white knuckled, determination set in his eyes as he seemed to be looking everywhere in the room at once. “You thinking he didn’t skip town after all?” 

Castiel answer was a shout of warning that was a half moment too late as an unseen force shoved Dean off his feet and into the wall. His gun falling to the ground at the abruptness of the attack.

A figure flickered in and out of sight where Dean had stood. His dark skin was ashen, one eye swollen shut below the apparent head trauma that probably led to his death. 

“There will be no deal!” He roared before phasing to appear in front of Dean again. The ghost grabbed the front of Dean’s jacket and threw him back towards the center of the room where he landed with a grunt of pain. “Euler cannot have my land!” Before Dean could scramble to his feet the ghost was on him again, picking hip up by the collar of his shirt and slammed him back down. The wood floors gave an ominous groan of protest as the ghost shouted, “Cannot have my family to do as he will!” 

The sound of the shotgun was loud, the salt round tearing through the ghost leaving Dean to catch his breath on the ground. 

Castiel moved to stand over Dean, the shotgun still smoking. “Are you alright?” He demanded, eyes casting around the room. 

Dean sat up gingerly, “Think you were right about the business partner.” He pressed a hand against his rib and hissed in pain. Probably broken, he thought sourly. 

Castiel was torn between trying to keep an eye on the room and checking Dean for injuries. “He’s still here.” Castiel said anxiously.

“Rock salt is a repellant. Doesn’t actually kill ‘em.” Dean said starting to stand. Castiel grabbed him by the bicep and helped him to his feet like he weighed nothing. 

The floor creaked under their combined weight. Dean took a step towards the door and immediately grabbed on to Castiel for support. “Gotta get out of here and start from square one.”

“Where are you injured?” Castiel demanded as he continued to survey the room. 

Dean grabbed Castiel’s gun and cocked it with a grimace, ejecting the used shell before handing it back to the angel. “Not a priority right now.” 

The front door slammed shut, rattling the windows around them. The unexpected blow to Castiel’s head had him releasing Dean’s arm, allowing the ghost to throw the hunter off his feet. “Dean!” Castiel called out as Dean let out a strangled gasp as he landed on his injured side. 

The ghost suddenly appeared sitting over Dean’s chest and delivering a vicious punch to his temple, “You, Alphonso Euler, are the devil and I will not abide your dealings in this town!” 

Dean fought back, delivering a sharp palm heel strike to his nose. If he were a human it would have broken his nose but as a semi-incorporeal being the barest contact had him flickering out of existence only to reappear standing above Dean. “We will not suffer your evil any longer!” The ghost howled, yanking Dean up by his shirt before driving him into the wooden floors. The aged wood gave a sharp crack and buckled under the pressure, Dean disappearing through the floor.

“Dean!?” Castiel yelled as a look of panic crossed the hunter’s face before he disappeared. 

The spirit stood and turned as if seeing Castiel for the first time. 

Fear and anger for Dean’s safety had Castiel leveling the shotgun at the ghost and firing. The salt round tore through the ghost, but it didn’t banish him nearly as long as the first round had. 

From the other side of the room his threatening voice continued, “Brought those immoral women to God’s country.” 

Cocking the gun, as he’d watched Dean do, Castiel trained the gun on the ghost again and pulled the trigger. The metal click of the empty chamber didn’t even make the ghost flinch. 

“Devising to bring more corruption and I wouldn’t allow it.” The ghost said slapping the gun from Castiel’s hands and taking hold of his jacket using it to throw him to the floor. 

“Place in hell for men like that!” The ghost yelled charging him.

Castiel pushed himself to his knees in time to throw his hands up and brace himself but as the ghost came within striking distance it erupted into flames and disappeared with a roar of pain/anger.

Looking around the startling quiet room, Castiel realized Dean must have done something. Scrambled to the hole in the floor Dean had fallen through Castiel yelled, “Dean!?” The shotgun Dean had dropped was lying a few feet from the hole and Castiel grabbed it, edging on frantic he called again, “Dean!” 

“I’m good!” Dean hollered back before muttering to himself, “Not like I fell through the fucking floor or anything.” 

Without a second thought, Castiel jumped through the hole, grunting with the impact of his landing. There was a fire in the corner of the room, Dean was kneeling in front of it with a hand settled protectively against his chest. 

Castiel’s eyes darted around the room, the shotgun held at the ready, “Dean, are you okay?” 

“Fucking fantastic,” Dean replied with a wince, now that the adrenaline was fading, breathing was starting to hurt. “Bastard went up like kindling,” He reported with forced enthusiasm. 

Lowering the gun, Castiel’s uncharacteristic panic had him bodily turned Dean to face him. He shoved Dean’s jacket from his shoulders to have direct access to Dean’s obviously injured side. 

Dean hissed in pain as Castiel’s hands pressed against his chest but let out a relieved sigh when his hands slowly healed his broken rib. Dean sat on his heels as Castiel crouched in front of him, slowly moving his warm hands over each of Dean’s ribs, following the curve of bone around Dean’s side to his back.

“How are you doing this?” Dean asked as Castiel knitted the bone back together. 

“I believe you’re well versed in what angels are capable of.” Came Castiel’s distracted response.

“No, I mean _you_. Elizabeth has been making sure you sleep 8 hours and get three square meals a day. How much of an angel are you still?” Dean asked watching the dancing fire beside them light up Castiel’s bright eyes. 

Castiel’s leaned closer to reach the bruised spot on Dean’s back before moving up to his shoulders, slowly relieving the pain from his landing of falling from the first level floor to the basement.

“As I said before, I have learned to preserve my grace because this isn’t the first time I’ve gone human. Healing will be something I will be able to do for a number of years yet.” Dean bit at his lip as Castiel’s warm fingers moved to the back of his head, his nails gently scraping along Dean’s scalp, easing the dull throb from where his head had bounced off the hard floor. “I’ve pushed grace into a different, _bucket_ if you will, that wouldn’t allow Elizabeth to get at it but will still provide her with what she needs.” 

One of Castiel’s hands cupped Dean’s jaw, coaxing him to meet his concerned gaze. “Are you injured anywhere else?”

“Just my pride.” Dean joked as he gave Castiel a weak smile, “We shouldn’t have gotten trapped in the house.” 

With Dean’s head cradled in Castiel’s hand, they silently regarded each other in the light of the fire. This close Dean finally recognized the unfamiliar glint that had been in Castiel’s gaze since he’d taken in Elizabeth. 

Admiration.

“You said you’d stay around, but for how long?” The silence that followed the statement allowed Dean to realize he was the one that spoke. 

“As long as you’ll have me.” Castiel murmured gazing down at him.

“And if I never wanted you to leave?” Dean whispered back as his eyes were drawn to Castiel’s mouth mere inches from his own.

Castiel’s answer was to press their lips together. 

Dean tipped his head back as far as Castiel’s grip in his hair would allow and grabbed for the angel to pull him closer. One hand fisting in the sleeve of his trench coat and the other resting on the curve of his hip. 

Castiel made a low hum in the back of his throat that Dean took as encouragement to rise up on his knees and use the new height vantage of the kiss to press their lips more firmly together. 

Castiel’s grip on Dean’s hair tightened at the height shift causing Dean to moan into the kiss and kitten-lick where their lips were pressed together. Castiel’s tongue darted out to meet Dean’s before pulling apart with a sharp intake of breath. 

Dean’s lips were spit slicked, making them shine in the low light. His voice was a deep husky tone, “Good?” 

“It’s overwhelming,” Castiel admitted, “All these sensations- all these feels at once. I can’t categorize them all at the same ti-“

Dean cut him off with another press of his lips, licking into Castiel’s mouth, tasting the essence of Cas that he’d been fantasizing about for almost as long as he’d known the angel. 

Dean broke the kiss long enough to command, “Don’t think about it” before recapturing Castiel’s lips again.

Castiel nodded once before leaning further into Dean, unintentionally rutting against the hunter’s thigh.

Dean hummed in approval and slid a thigh between Castiel’s legs, grabbing for his hips to grind the angel harder against his leg. 

Castiel all but mewed under the rough treatment his hand falling from Dean’s hair to his shoulder, using it as leverage explore the perfect level of friction.

Dean broke the kiss, pecking the corner of Castiel’s mouth, commanding in his lust deepened voice, “Lay back.” Using the hand on Castiel’s hip to encourage him to move. 

Castiel paused for a moment, confusion nestled alongside his bright lust blown eyes. 

“Trust me.” Dean whispered leaning in to nudge at Castiel cheek with his own. 

“I do trust you, Dean.” The words were hot against the shell of Dean’s ear, Castiel’s deep voice laced with hunger matching Dean’s own. 

Their lips met again and Dean followed Castiel to the ground, aligning their hips and grinding forward. Castiel groaned and arched under him, chasing the sparks of pleasure. 

“That’s it, just like that Cas.” Dean murmured doing it again. Bracing on either side of Castiel’s chest Dean picked up the pace, leaning in to nip at his jaw. 

“Dean.” Castiel moaned. 

“I know Cas, I know.” Dean said sitting up on his knees and fumbling for his belt. 

Castiel gave a moan of protest before focusing his hungry gaze on what Dean was trying to do. 

“You too Cas, want to feel you.” Dean all but growled as he dropped a hand to palm at the bulge in Castiel’s slacks. Castiel arched off the floor, bucking into Dean’s hand. “Gonna get us both off, but these gotta go.” Dean explained tugging Castiel’s dress shirt from his slacks.

With his own jeans open, Dean thumbed the elastic of his boxers down below his balls before helping Castiel work the slacks down his hips, freeing his hard cock. 

Spitting in his hand, Dean wrapped his fist around Castiel’s dick and gave it an experimental pull earning a hiss of pleasure and Castiel’s fingers digging into his shoulder. 

“So fucking good Cas.” Dean praised swiping his thumb over Castiel’s leaking tip.

Castiel reached between them and wrapped Dean’s cock in his dry hand. He tugged at the sensitive skin and Dean groaned as the sparks of pleasure/pain lit up behind his eyes. He abandoning Castiel’s dick to rescue his own, “Don’t go dry, it’s only good sometimes. Don’t worry about me.” 

Castiel moaned his name in protest and rolled his hips towards Dean in a silent plea.

Dean spit in his hand and wrapped his fist around both their cocks, there was no telling who moaned louder.

Castiel’s gaze was fixed on their combined dicks thrusting in Dean’s hand. “Talk to me Cas.” Dean encouraged, “Tell me what you need.” 

Straining to find the pace he’d set while rocking against Dean’s thigh, Castiel gave a low groan of frustration. Even with Dean’s fingers wrapped around him and the underside of Dean’s warm solid cock against his, he still needed more. “Faster. Dean please, I need it faster.” 

“Then thrust faster.” Came Dean’s playfully dark suggestion. 

Castiel didn’t second guess the command, planting his feet on either side of Dean’s knees he started a quick rhythm thrusting up while Dean lazily rolled his hips forward, his hand keeping a tight fist over the both of them. 

“Like that Cas, fucking perfect.” Dean praised. 

Their combined precome further slicked the contact between their thrusting cocks, the excess trailing across the top of Dean’s knuckles. 

“Feels good doesn’t it.” Dean hissed, feeling the start of his own orgasm tighten his balls. Castiel’s thrusting faltered a beat before he let out a loud moan and arched against Dean’s hand, come splashing into his stomach and chest. 

Watching Castiel spasm and come undone under him had Dean picking up his pace, biting hard at his lower lip when he followed with half a dozen more thrusts, spilling his release over his hand and onto Castiel’s stomach.

Dean dropped his forehead to rest against Castiel’s collar bone as they caught their breath. Castiel’s hands lazily traced patterns through Dean’s shirt on his back and sides. 

Dean leaned up on his elbows looking down at Castiel and admitted, “Didn’t expect that.”

Castiel ignored the sheen of sweat of their frenzied activity and brought their foreheads together. “You disappeared and all I could see was you on that bed at the hospital. Bruised and beaten.” Came his hushed response.

Dean moved his not come soaked hand to pet at Castiel’s unruly hair. “I’m right here.” 

“Thank father for that.” Castiel murmured against his lips before leaning up for a soft press of their lips. The desperation gone from the contact leaving affection and warmth in its wake. 

Dean slowly pulled himself away and sat back on his heels, fishing a handkerchief from his jeans -still trapped around his thighs- and wiped his hand on it before mopping up the mess on Castiel’s stomach. Dean tucked himself away, ignoring the way Castiel watching the movement. His dick gave a valent effort to go another round at Castiel’s complete lack of shame. 

Once Castiel had fixed his own clothes Dean nodded towards the still on fire remains offering, “Shall we?” 

Castiel looked around the room, taking in the stairs off to the side. “I don’t remember seeing those stairs from the main floor of the house.”

Dean gave a shrug and stood, “If it’s set up like I think it is, the door might be behind a false wall.”

Giving Dean a suspicious side-eye, Castiel started for the stairs while Dean set about putting out the burning remains. At the top of the stairs, Castiel had to use a little inhuman strength to get the door open. A picture frame fell and shattered when Castiel’s effort pushed the door through an otherwise unremarkable wall. 

It opened into the living room, maybe two feet from the fireplace. Another picture frame was hanging precariously off a broken board.

“Guess this explains why the business partner was never heard from again.” Dean commented ducking under some cracked bit of hanging wall. 

“If Euler was already dead then who would have killed that man?” Castiel asked. 

“Willing to put cash money on Euler being into some shady shit.” Dean responded, snagging Castiel’s gun off the ground, “And when you kill a guy like that you don’t just walk away. Whoever took over what Euler had going probably was the one who did that guy in. But putting the dead guy in your basement is a new one for me.”

Castiel started nodding off in the passenger seat as soon as Dean hung up from letting Sam know they were on their way back. 

Pulling into the parking lot and cutting the engine had Castiel sitting up with a yawn. “I’m gonna grab a shower, you go ahead and hit the hay.”

Castiel gave the windshield a sleepy blink as he turned over Dean’s statement in his head, “If that term is permission for me to sleep I will gladly accept.” 

The corner of Dean’s lips turned up in a soft smile as he watched Castiel fumble for the door handle and get out of the Impala. He caught sight of how dirty the back of Castiel’s trench coat was. Casting a concerned glance at the passenger seat –which hadn’t picked up any of the dirt- he quickly got out of the Impala and followed Castiel to stand in front of the motel door. 

“Hey,” Dean called quietly getting his attention, “Take off your coat, it’s filthy. You’re not bringing that crap under the sheets.” 

Castiel gave his trench coat a sleepy frown and awkwardly started taking it off. Dean rolled eyes and opened the motel door, ushering the stripping angel inside. He snagging a change of clothes from his bag and dropping them on top of the covers. “Change into that. I’m going to grab a shower.”

Quickly washing the dirt out of hair and easing the lingering soreness out of his muscles Dean changed into his own pair of clean boxers and a soft tee-shirt. He came out of the bathroom to see Castiel had already claimed a side and most of the covers. Sam was asleep, or pretending to be asleep, his back to the room. Dean checked on Elizabeth in her bassinet, giving her tummy a gentle rub she smacked her lips in her sleep then settled back down. Satisfied she’d sleep through the night Dean turned and climbed under the sheets with Castiel. 

Exhaustion threatened to pull him under almost immediately. The steady rhythmic breath of Castiel beside him had almost completely lulled him to sleep when the angel hiccupped a breath and the exhale he gave was a touch away from a whimper. Dean woke him with an elbow and a quiet, “Hey.” 

Castiel sat up so fast Dean felt a sympathy twinge for his head. Castiel’s frantic bright eyes took in the dark room before turning to settle on Dean.

“You ok?” Dean whispered, his voice a hushed tone.

Castiel gave him a once over before looking at the Sam in the other bed then back to Dean. “I was dreaming again.” He answered, his voice held a slight hysteric note to it.

Dean glanced at Sam, hoping Castiel’s voice hadn’t woke him. “Need to talk about it?” Castiel shook his head and Dean patted at Castiel’s pillow, “Then try to go back to sleep.” 

Castiel moved to lie back down and Dean was suddenly hyper aware both of them were lying in the queen size bed wide awake. They usually woke up tangled together but never feel asleep that way. 

The silence stretched between them and Dean was sure Castiel had fallen back asleep when his deep voice whispered, “Your heart wasn’t beating.”

Dean turned to look at him before thinking better of it. The outline of his hair, cheek, and jaw bone were the only thing he could make out in the dark room. They were so close. “Was a dream Cas.” Dean said unnecessarily.

Castiel nodded in the dark then rolled onto his side, facing Dean before settling a hand on his chest; right over his heart. “May I?” 

Dean swallowed and felt his pulse quicken at Castiel’s closeness before muttering, “If it helps you sleep.” 

Castiel gave another nod and scooted closer until he was pressed against Dean’s arm, his heart a steady beat under his palm. 

They feel asleep tucked against each other and if Castiel dreamt that night, they were pleasant. 

\- - -

“ _ **Your findings Sofiel.**_ “ A male growled impatiently in Enochian. He stood beside a woman as she watched expressionless.

Sofiel stood over a crib, his hand glowing a faint blue as he hovered over a small dark head of hair. “ _ **This Halfling is far more powerful than those we’ve encountered in the past.**_ “ 

“ _ **Or the sire is the new original sin.**_ “ The male sneered watching the blue glow illuminate the sleeping infant’s face.

Sofiel withdrew his hand, turning to his companions. “ _ **The blood would indicate it is Castiel’s heir.**_ “

“ _ **Castiel?!**_ “ The woman cried, confusion touching her brow, “ _ **His only human interest lies in Michael’s true vessel and human males are not capable of birthing life!**_ “

The man turned his sneer to her, “ _ **Do not lecture us Kalaziel. We are aware of how these humans reproduce.**_ “

“ _ **I cannot discern the partner, but the grace belongs Castiel. Perhaps a vessel change occurred?**_ “ Sofiel suggested.

“ _ **Past willingness to abandon Heaven and our assigned duties would conclude such an endeavor is not beneath our brother.**_ “ The man growled. “ _ **Of course the traitor would birth a female child.**_ “ He spat.

From down the hall a woman sing-singed, “It’s time for sleepy babies to be awake.” Her light footsteps echoing off the wooden floors.

Kalaziel looked down to the sleeping baby in the crib. “ _ **Nathanael, although it fits I cannot believe the heir to be Castiel’s. Our brother has been commanding an army as of late and I have seen him leading the charge. There was no indication of offspring, or the wane of grace from a birth in this time frame.**_ “

A mock 'Jack be Nimble, Jack be Quick' rhyme filled the hall as the woman in the hall drew closer. “Richie be sleepy. Richie be tired. Richie isn’t going to keep us awake all night.”

“ _ **It is most perplexing.**_ “ Nathanael agreed. “ _ **Proceed with formation. We will find this disgrace. Until then I will seek word with Castiel’s lieutenants on this matter.**_ “ 

Alison walked into the empty nursery room and gathered the sleeping Richie into her arms, cooing at the sleepy yawn he let out as she settled into the rocking chair to comfort him as he woke up.


	7. Chapter 7

Elizabeth singing to herself woke them most days. 

Dean was warm and his brain muddled from the unusually deep sleep, but the call of early morning snuggles with his little girl woke him up faster. He had to get up before Sam or Cas saw to her and they were on the receiving end of those sleepy blinks. 

Trying to slowly untangle himself from the sheets he found they were more uncooperative than usual. That and Castiel’s hand was still firmly planted on his chest. With a fond sigh, Dean blinked down at Castiel’s face relaxed in sleep as he used Dean’s arm as a pillow. 

“Should I get breakfast or do you think Cas will be up soon?” Sam asked in a hushed voice. Elizabeth was in the crook of his arm, almost finished with her morning bottle as Sam casually leaned against the kitchen counter. 

Panic flooded Dean's brain as he realized Sam was _awake_. Dean still had a hand resting over Castiel's bicep and his fingers were tangled in Castiel’s hair.

Sam narrowed his eyes at the look of terror on Dean’s face. “Don’t you dare freak out now,” he warned, “This has been happening since day one.” 

The fight went out of Dean’s muscles at the command. Sam didn’t care. Well, didn’t care that Castiel was clearly a _guy_ and Dean wasn’t shoving him away, instead, snuggling him in his sleep. 

“Should at least get some coffee,” Dean answered, his voice thick with sleep. 

Sam nodded and moved Elizabeth over his shoulder to burp. Dean closed his eyes for a moment at Sam’s soft humming and Castiel’s even breathing beside him. 

He hadn’t realized he’d drifted back asleep until a very much awake baby was put on his stomach. “I’ll be back after while,” Sam told him before grabbing his jacket and heading out the door. 

Dean put a guiding hand on Elizabeth’s back as she saw fit to crawl over him and roll into the space between him and Cas. What little space there was with Castiel’s leg thrown over his. 

Sitting on her knees, her little hands on Castiel’s stomach, Elizabeth made a happy high pitch giggle that had Castiel’s brow scrunching at the abrupt wake-up call. 

“Morning Abba,” Dean said running his fingers through Castiel’s hair again before giving in to the urge and dropping a kiss to his hairline. Castiel gave a low grunt of acknowledgment which Elizabeth copied then proceeded to try and crawl over him. “I’m going to grab a shower, Sam should be back with coffee soon. You good?” Dean asked as he eased out from under the blankets.

Castiel lazily put a supporting arm around Elizabeth, and his sleep-heavy eyes looked down at Elizabeth before looking up at Dean. “Did she eat yet?” 

“Sam fed her,” Dean assured as Elizabeth started drumming/hitting on Castiel’s stomach.

# 

Overcome with contentment, Dean leaned down and pressed a quick peck to the corner of Castiel’s mouth. Castiel’s hand caught the back of Dean’s neck and held him close as their lips pressed together. Their lips slowly moved together for a few long minutes, only breaking away when Elizabeth gave an unhappy grunt at being ignored. 

“Horrible for the mood kiddo,” Dean said pulling back and petting a hand over Elizabeth’s head. With a smile at Castiel’s tired, kissed expression, Dean headed to the shower.

\- - -

With no objective in mind, they were kind of unofficially on shore leave. 

The most excitement they’d seen in the past few days was introducing Elizabeth to mashed baby food. On the first try, her excitement over sweet potatoes led Dean to feed her so full she threw up. Castiel unofficially took it upon himself to feed her solid foods after that. He proved to be the only one who stopped when she was full and didn’t cave to her fussing when she wanted more, like Sam had. 

But they were Winchesters, and their breaks never lasted very long. 

As Castiel's grace continued to wane, they relied more and more on the bracelet Castiel had gifted Dean for when they were to change Elizabeth's wards. The black Signal Watch changed from a midnight black to a rich smoke color halfway through Elizabeth’s morning bottle. 

“She’s making a break for it,” Dean joked, nodding towards his wrist holding the bottle. 

“We’ll need to stop by Bobby’s soon and restock her charms,.” Castiel reminded him. 

“Your Abba just wants to get to Bobby’s because he finished translating that chicken scratch,” Dean mock-whispered to Elizabeth. She gave a content sigh around the bottle and kept eating, big green eyes watching him. 

“It’s not chicken scratch Dean,” Castiel argued not awake enough yet to catch the sarcasm, “it is a hunter’s journal from the year 1438 in every language spoken of what you now refer to as the European continent. There are written references I assumed humans had lost along with the library named after that conqueror.” 

Dean dug out a random baby food jar that Castiel would feed her once he woke the hell up. “Your Abba is grumpy because he hasn’t had his morning coffee yet.” Castiel’s tired glare was the furthest thing from intimidating. “Bet Uncle Sammy isn’t going to bring enough sugar this time either.”

“Very funny,” Castiel growled, standing from the bed and going through his leather duffle bag for a change of clothes.

Dean refrained from giving the view an appreciative whistle. 

He was more than pleased Castiel had started wearing clothes that actually _fit_ him. Dean was particularly fond of the ripped jeans and tight black Henley. Even though Castiel still took to wearing the trench coat that hid the curve of his muscles. It was a travesty really.

And to Dean’s mounting frustration, Castiel had taken to sleeping only in boxers. As if sensing Dean's eyes, Castiel stood and slowly stretched, his boxers riding low on his hips. Dean bit at his lower lip, it really was a shame he hadn’t had the opportunity to explore all that skin the way he wanted to. 

“Dean,” Castiel called drawing Dean’s eyes to meet his. “It’s rude to stare.” 

Dean fixed him with a playful glare, “Hurry up and shower you tease, you have a ward to replace.” 

Castiel smirked and disappeared into the bathroom.

Sam returned with coffee before Castiel got out of the shower. “One coffee and one diabetic coma delivered,” he announced, trading Dean the travel cup holder for Elizabeth.

Sam settled Elizabeth on the bed with her bear. “Hey, this one is going,” Sam called, thumbing the tarnished looking charm on Elizabeth’s bracelet. 

“He knows,” Dean explained setting Castiel’s sugar overloaded coffee to the side. 

Castiel had taken to changing her charm as their bonding time. He would tug at Elizabeth’s kicking feet and dance his fingers up her belly earning happy giggles while he told her stories of history he’d witnessed. Often times it was spurred by him explaining why text from one of Bobby’s many books was incorrect, or how the translation had pivoted on the wrong keyword. 

On More than one occasion Sam and Dean found themselves enthralled by his history lessons.

“Did you get all his IDs made up for him yet?” Sam asked, making faces at Elizabeth before brushing her bear across her cheek. 

“Bobby took care of it,” Dean said, tossing the lid of his coffee in the trash so he could take a proper drink of the hot liquid. He dug one of the IDs from the outer pocket of Castiel’s leather bag, “Check it out.” He handed Sam the "Center of Disease Control" badge with Castiel’s serious no-nonsense look on it. 

“It says Castiel Singer,” Sam said with raised eyebrows and a smile pulling at his lips as he handed it back to Dean. “Do you think it’s a “thank you” for all the translating he’s been knocking out?”

Dean shrugged again, “Or Bobby’s getting soft in his old age.” 

Sam huffed a laugh of disbelief at that.

Castiel stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed and accompanied with a billow of steam, his skin pink from the heat of the water. 

Dean would joke he was getting tired of the cold showers, but he imagined even if Cas didn’t use up all the hot water, he’d still be taking them. He was still devising a way to get Sam to agree to get a second motel room one of these days without coming out and actually saying it. 

Sam relocated to the kitchen table to look over Castiel’s most recent notes as Castiel swept Elizabeth up into a hug while he dug through the Pandora box for a replacement charm. He told her of how the Library of Alexander grew to be so large it appealed to several of his more curious brothers and sisters who found stations as human scholars within the building. 

When Castiel started the routine of feeding Elizabeth, Dean settled opposite Sam at the table with Sam’s laptop to halfheartedly look for a case. 

20 minutes, and a very messy baby later, Dean cleaned her up and wrestled her out of her pajamas and into day clothes while Castiel answered Sam’s questions about the translations he’d completed. 

Halfway through getting a fresh onesie on, Elizabeth gave an ear piercing scream then started giggling and waving her limbs around hard enough the diaper came undone over her side. “Holy crap kiddo,.” Dean muttered getting her situated again and snapping the onesie on. 

Quickly getting an elephant shirt over her head and her arms through the holes she let out another happy deafening squeal as Dean was getting her kicking legs into pants. “I know, I know. I like the purple cloud pants too,” he murmured finally working her little foot through the pant leg. 

Picking her up Dean held her over his head and earned a delighted giggle. “Somebody is in a good mood today,” he cooed tucking her against his side and tugging her bear-eared hat over her head.

“You’d be making the same noises if you had strawberries and banana mash for breakfast,” Sam chimed without looking up from the papers piled between him and Castiel at the small table. 

“I might if you two hurry up so we can get going,” Dean threatened. “We’re gonna miss Cas’ pancake window if we sit around here for another 15 minutes.” 

“Such a caveman mentality,” Sam scoffed, “just because you love a syrupy short stack doesn’t mean Cas does.” 

The brothers turned expectant looks to Castiel. He had become somewhat of their mediator, joining in with a deadpan quip or a from-left-field observation.

Instead, he was staring at Elizabeth with a scrutinizing eye.

“Yay or nay on pancakes Cas?” Dean asked.

“Does she look different?” Castiel wondered aloud.

Dean held her up for inspection earning another giggle and more happy leg kicks. “Different in what way?” 

Castiel stood slowly and approached Dean and Elizabeth. She reached for him and grunted as he came within arms distance. 

Dean pressed his wrist against her forehead, under the bear hat, testing her temperature. “She doesn’t feel hot.”

“She can’t get sick,” Castiel dismissed as he studied her. 

Castiel’s eyes widened as he realized the bracelet on Dean’s wrist was a bright pearl white. A horrified “No” fell from his lips as he saw Elizabeth’s charm bracelet missing from her little wrist.

Snatching the diaper bag off the floor, Castiel dumped it across the bed, empty baby bottles rolling to the floor in his haste. The half-eaten container of puffs was knocked aside as he scrambled for the Pandora Box. The lid gavea groan of protest at the force he used to open it. Castiel turned and pressed three charms against the skin of Elizabeth’s arm to her squirming protest. 

Dean’s bracelet was still white. “No, no, no, no,” Castiel muttered, guiding Dean’s hand to replace his and hold the stones against Elizabeth’s skin. 

“Cas, what’s going on?” Dean demanded, Castiel’s uncharacteristic panic starting to worry him. 

With renewed urgency, Castiel returned to the bed and began tossing everything to the floor one by one. Searching. 

“Do you see her bracelet?” Castiel asked instead, eyes scanning the scattered contents on the floor. 

Understanding had Sam moving to join him looking through the contents of the diaper bag, “How did it fall off?”

“I must not have secured the clasp,” Castiel tipped the diaper bag upside down and gave it a shake. “How did it just disappear?” He hissed, his voice edging on hysteria.

“Whoa, Cas. Calm down,” Dean soothed, “We’ll get her warded back up and-“ 

“They’ll find her if she’s not warded at all times,” came Castiel’s short reply as he opened the Pandora Box again. 

“Who?” Dean asked cautiously. Castiel shook his head but didn’t look up from the contents of the box. “Cas, who’ll find her?” It struck Dean at that moment that Castiel was hiding something from them. Something big. Dean's tone took on a sharp edge; whatever this was it had to do with his daughter and he needed to know. “Castiel!” 

Castiel set the box down and turned to glare at the scattered contents of the diaper bag that Sam was still sorting through. “There is a small order of angels, Baltim de Mahorela, dedicated to eradicating what Heaven considers the fallen. Nephilim easily fit within that category. The charms have been keeping her hidden from everything, but most importantly, them.”

Throwing pillows from one bed to another Sam gave out a triumphant “Found it!” and tossed it to Castiel. 

Snatching the bracelet from mid-air Castiel exchanged the stones Dean was still holding against Elizabeth’s skin for the bracelet, “Put this on her, we need to leave. Now.” Castiel instructed as he turned and began shoving the scattered diaper bag items back into the bag.

Sam started gathering his and Dean’s clothes and shoving them wherever they’d fit in their bags. They’d sort them later. Dean set Elizabeth on the bed and quickly wrestled the bracelet back on.

A duffle slung over each shoulder, Sam scooped up Castiel’s leather bag and left the room to haul his load into the Impala. Dean picked up Elizabeth, prepared to strap her into her car seat while Castiel finished gathering the scattered diaper bag items. He made it two steps outside towards the Impala when a man suddenly appeared at the rear fender. 

As if sensing the arrival, Castiel came out of the motel room and shouldered past the brothers, his angel blade clenched in his fist. 

“Sofiel.” Castiel acknowledged, his voice hard and razor sharp. It couldn’t have been further from his panicked tone moments earlier. 

Sofiel dipped his head in acknowledgment, “Castiel, as I predicted.”

Two angels appeared behind Sofiel. The man came forwards and clapped Sofiel on the shoulder with a grin, “Persistence will always pay off.” He grinned.

Sofiel remained silent and watched Elizabeth from her perch in Dean’s arms. 

“We’ve come for the abomination,” Nathanael announced, stepping forward. 

“Oh fuck no.” Dean growled, bringing a hand up to the back of Elizabeth’s head and tucking her under his chin.

“She is a blight on God's Earth and we will do our job to cleanse the most grievous offense an angel can commit when taking a vessel,” Nathanael informed him. The way he said it, as if that spiel was enough of a reason to give up his baby, pissed Dean off.

“You’re not taking the baby.” Dean responded. 

“That is not your decision to make,” Nathanael informed him and disappeared with a gust of wind. Castiel stepped in front of Dean, effectively parrying the swing of Nathanael’s angel blade that was intended for Dean’s throat. Nathanael's surprise gave Castiel enough time to deliver a quick jab of his own to Nathanael's side. 

With a growl of pain the angel stumbled backward, holding the visible wound on his side. “Step aside Castiel,” Nathanael spat. 

“ _ **Her gift is far from a threat to the Host,**_ “ Castiel told Nathanael in Enochian. 

Nathanael sneered and readjusted his hold on his blade; Castiel dropped into a defensive stance. “ _ **I don’t care to hear of her _ability_!**_ “ he spat before launching himself at Castiel again. 

With the apparent leader's attention fixed on Castiel, Dean accepted the angel blade Sam handed him and stood side by side with his brother as they faced the other two angels, Elizabeth tucked to his chest with one hand and brandishing the blade with the other. 

“We are here for the child. We have no desire to harm you Winchesters,” the female angel assured them. 

“Same can’t be said for us,” Sam replied. 

Kalaziel reappeared in front of Dean, grabbing Elizabeth by the back of her sweater and tearing her out of his grip. With a flick of her wrist she knocked Dean backward into the motel wall, cracking the plaster from the impact. Elizabeth gave a loud cry as she was forced into unfamiliar arms. 

The angel seemed bewildered at the inability to fly with Elizabeth in her arms so Sam took the opening to drive his blade into the angel’s shoulder. 

She let out an angry cry of pain and hurled Sam back into the plaster of the motel wall next to Dean. She sought refuge with the screaming Elizabeth behind Sofiel, who hadn't moved from his defensive position. 

“Nathanael I have her!” Kalaziel panted as the wound in her shoulder glowed as the grace was exposed.

“Waste no time! Return to perform the ritual!” Nathanael barked as he and Castiel continued to circle one another. 

She bowed her head, ignoring Elizabeth’s upset cries, and focused. When a moment passed and nothing happened, her head snapped up, eyes wide with fear, “I cannot leave!”

Nathanael bared his teeth at Castiel, “What have you done?!” 

“How can her gift be used against the Host if she cannot travel to Heaven?” Castiel demanded. 

“You are a disgrace Castiel,” Nathanael spat. “You were foolish enough to take up a blade against Raphael. You abandoned your army in the middle of a war to come play nursemaid to a monster!”

“As you can see my armies were more than well trained to defeat Raphael. Lucifer will not be allowed to destroy the Earth because of their efforts,” Castiel reminded him.

With a clench of his teeth Nathanael attacked again. With quick feet and a sure hand, Castiel dodged the swing of his blade and danced away. 

Dean stumbled to his feet, blood slipping past his lip from where he’d bitten his tongue when he’d hit the wall. “Give me back my kid you winged dick!” Dean yelled advancing on the angel who was holding Elizabeth.

“Nathanael?!” Kalaziel yelled, her voice high in panic. There wasn’t an angel alive that hadn’t heard of what the Winchester brothers were capable of. 

“Begin the ritual here if you must!” came Nathanael’s demand over Elizabeth’s cries. 

With one last fearful glance at the brothers -at Dean in particular- Kalaziel drew her angel blade and ran it across Elizabeth’s arm. Blood immediately turned her blue sweater an alarming dark purple. “Son of a fucking bitch!” Dean snarled as the angel muttered a few words of Enochian and passed the screaming Elizabeth to Sofiel who laid an intricately patterned cloth over the bleeding cut. 

Nathanael gave Castiel a victorious smile and with a gust of wind he stood next to Sofiel, the length of the parking lot away. “There isn’t much you can do as weak as you are,” he taunted Castiel as he eased out of his fighting stance to stand at his full height. “We thought the issue of human attraction was dealt with as the Roman Empire fell. Those heathens and all the beasts they bore. Despicable. To be able to love such a creature as this defies the very design our Father put in place!” He turned to Sofiel and held out a demanding hand, “Give me the abomination.” 

Sofiel tucked Elizabeth against his side, and without warning drove his angel blade through Nathanael’s neck. 

With a sputtering gasp, Nathanael’s eyes and slack mouth flooded with grace, the light sparking out as he hit the ground, burnt wings etched into the concrete.

Elizabeth’s cries were loud in the now silent parking lot. 

Kalaziel took a hesitant step forward, stopping as Sofiel quietly addressed her, “ _ **The old ways will die with Nathanael.**_ “ She stared at him for a long moment before nodding once in agreement.

Sofiel turned to the men in front of them.

“Sofiel, please. I don’t wish to fight you,” Castiel implored. 

Sofiel’s angel blade disappeared as he answered, “Nor I you brother.” He held up Elizabeth to get a better look at her red crying face. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been on Earth.” He continued as he removed the patterned cloth from her arm. The wound was healed and even her sweater, once covered in blood, was clean. “I’ve forgotten just how powerful human emotions are. And what beauty love can create here.” 

Castiel took the peace offering for what it was and moved forward, pocketing his angel blade as he passed the brothers. He shrugged off Dean’s angry hiss of “Cas!” and his attempt to grab his arm. When Elizabeth caught sight of Castiel coming towards her she twisted in Sofiel's arms and reached for him with a desperate cry. 

Sofiel watched silently as Castiel pulled her close and allowed her to bury her face into his neck. Castiel retreated a few steps once he had the crying infant in his arm. His distrust, while not misplaced, was unnecessary now that Nathanael was dead, Sofiel thought.

The Michael-vessel was at Castiel's side in an instant, soothing words falling from his mouth as the child clung to Castiel's shirt and sobbed. It was clear the confrontation had upset the Michael-vessel almost as much as the babe.

“You aren’t the first angel to successfully hide a Nephilim through their development,” Sofiel informed him. “She is young but has almost master concealment. She is quite intelligent.” 

Castiel tried to hand the child to the Michael-vessel but through her hysterics, it took her a moment to realize the arms trying to take her now were familiar. She clung to the Michael-vessel just as tightly as she had Castiel.

“A trait she inherited from the righteous man no doubt,” was Castiel’s clipped acknowledgment. 

“ _ **Being allowed back on Earth has reminded me of the love I felt for a human when we were allowed to walk freely among them.**_ " Sofiel said mournfully in Enochian, " _ **He was beautiful, and so was our child. Our babe also did not receive a gift that would have concerned the Host, but he was still considered a threat.**_ "

Understanding dawned in Castiel's eyes, " _ **This has been your punishment.**_ " 

Sofiel offered the patterned cloth for Castiel to take. The dark, intricate lines were red with the blood they had soaked up. Elizabeth’s blood. “ _ **The victory over Raphael allows for adjustments to how the results of a loving union are dealt with.**_ ” 

Castiel accepted the ritual cloth, “ _ **It is truly precious and should be treated as such.**_ ”

Sofiel nodded, “ _ **Your victory over our oldest of brothers also allows for you to return home and regain your grace.**_ ” 

Castiel glanced at Dean who was whispering assurances against the crown of Elizabeth’s head as Sam stood next to him, glaring at the still immobile Kalaziel. “ _ **I would rather stay with my family,**_ “ Castiel told him firmly in Enochian. 

Sofiel dipped his head, “ _ **As you wish Brother. Go in Peace.**_ “ 

Castiel returned the gesture, “ _ **You as well Sister.**_ “

Sofiel called for Kalaziel and they vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^__^


	8. Chapter 8

**~ ~ ~ _19 Years Later_ ~ ~ ~ **

A figure crouched over a freshly dug grave, green eyes watching as flames danced inside the coffin. 

The last verse of Carmina Burana’s O Fortuna began playing loudly in the quiet night air of the cemetery. Digging the phone from the warm confines of her leather jacket, she glanced at the caller ID. With a heavy sigh, she accepted the call. 

“Hi, Daddy,” she greeted. 

“Hey, Trouble-Maker. How are classes?” Dean asked. 

Elizabeth glanced down at grave, the accelerant hadn’t even been burned away yet, “Um, they’re going well.”

She tried not to fidget as the silence stretched over the line.

“Did you even go to class today?” came his clipped tone. 

“What makes you say that?” she asked, grabbing the shovel and standing. 

“Cause you lie about as well as your Father. Which is for shit,” he unnecessarily informed her, “Did you take a job?”

“Maybe,” she hedged.

“Where the fuck are you?” He demanded.

“It was just a salt and burn Dad! Hardly something I need back up for! I’m finishing up now. He’s smoking as we speak.”

“You can’t go wandering off alone to gank a ghost!” came his frustrated response. She rolled her eyes at her Dad’s outdated turn of phrase. “Hang on, your Abba wants to talk to you.”

“No!” She yelled into the phone, “Wait! Daddy, please don’t-“

“Elizabeth.” Came Castiel's displeased voice over the phone. 

“Hello, Abba,” she greeted with growing anxiety. He was going to let her have it on this one.

“Where are you?” 

“About 15 miles outside of Oakland. One of those less than 700 population towns,” she responded, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

“Will you be home in time for 8 hours of sleep and attend classes tomorrow?” 

She groaned at his concern. She rarely ever needed a full 8 hours of sleep. “Yes, Abba. Just have to cover 'em back up and I’m on the road.”

“It’s a 4-hour drive,” was her Abba's reprimand.

“I’ve got those audio books Uncle Sammy bought to keep me awake and class doesn’t start until 11:00 tomorrow. Plenty of time for a full night of sleep.” 

The low murmur of him talking with someone on his end had her huffing a visible breath into the night air as she waited for the line of questioning he was bound to have for her. 

“Occurrences and years,” he demanded.

“5 people in the last 15 years. Every three years, at the same time, at the same place. It’s usually a teen seeing someone their parents don’t approve of. Story goes a girl was seeing someone her parents didn’t approve of and one heated fight later he killed his daughter then himself. The locals practically closed the books without investigating. The guy was apparently an asshole in life ‘cause he’s an asshole in death and now he’s crispy.”

Castiel was silent for a moment, “Call us when you get home.” 

Through the phone, she could hear her Daddy start yelling, “Cas! No, you can’t just let her off the hook like that! Tell her we’re coming out there and dragging her ass back home! Don’t just send her off with a “ _drive safe_!!” 

Her Abba spoke into the line, “Your Dad says he loves you.”

Elizabeth smiled at that. “Tell Daddy I love him too.”

“I will,” he assured her.

“Love you Abba.” 

“Love you too Lizzy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with it to the end!!  
> I hope you enjoyed it!! ^__^


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